


Chrysalis

by Feyna



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU - High School, AU - Humans, Alfred and Maggie aren’t related, All the characters after the first 4 ones mentioned aren't truly focused on, Alternate Universe, Angst, Bad Parenting, Bullying, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Family, First Love, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Nyo!Canada is called Maggie because I don’t like Meg, Physical Abuse, Romance, Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Violence, but I don't think it's graphic, but I tagged them because they still play important roles, but it’s still short for Marguerite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2018-12-25 01:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 165,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12025515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feyna/pseuds/Feyna
Summary: Marguerite Williams is a shy, unremarkable Canadian girl. She is used to being ignored, after all, there's nothing worthy of attention in her, and she didn’t expect anything to change after moving to the US. She certainly didn’t expect a boisterous American boy, an eccentric French neighbour and a group of quirky teens determined to prove her wrong.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been sitting in my laptop since… like… forever, and I probably would have waited just as long before publishing it. One of the prompts for #HetaliaExtravaganza2k17, however, fit it perfectly, so I decided that why not? I could publish this first chapter to test the waters.  
>  **IMPORTANT!** This chapter is to see if there’s anybody interested in the story. I will continue it ONLY if I have some feedback. I don’t usually do this, but this is kind of a peculiar case. Read the notes at the end for more details.
> 
>  **Warnings:** This story is going to include violence and child abuse, please keep this in mind if it might bother you. I don’t think any of the above is going to be graphic, but still…
> 
> English isn’t my first language, so as usual I apologize for any mistake. What is different this time, however, is that the first draft was written in Italian and translated only later, so I think that there is a higher probability of oddly-phrased sentences that still reflect the Italian structure.
> 
> AmeCan will be the main pairing (and obviously, they aren't related since this is Nyo!Canada and not canon Canada), but there are also some other pairings in the background. (you may ask in the comment section if you want a full list, or you can send me an anonymous ask on [my tumblr](https://feyna-v.tumblr.com), I will answer in any case. Always on tumblr, I also included a more complete list in the notes for the [first chapter](https://feyna-v.tumblr.com/post/165087520914/hetalia-fanfiction-chrysalis-ch-1))
> 
> With this said, I hope you will enjoy!

Maggie’s hands clutched the strap of her schoolbag as she stood completely still, almost holding her breath.

The woman in front of her - Martha Evans, the headmaster’s assistant - kept ignoring the girl while her grey eyes swept over the papers in her hands. She mustn’t have been very old - probably in her early fifties - but the skin of her face was drawn, and her eyes, behind a pair of huge glasses with a spotted frame, looked dull. Her hair was in a short cut that was probably meant to be practical and fresh at the same time, but at that moment only looked messy and in need of a washing, and the dishevelled appearance wasn’t helped by the way grey strands showed among the dull dark brown.

_‘She works too much. She probably has children at home, and a husband that doesn’t help her. She’s tired and stressed.’_

As soon as those words crossed her mind, Maggie realized that she had been staring at Mrs Evans and quickly lowered her eyes, blushing violently.

The woman was running a finger under each line as she read.

Her hands were big, with long fingers and short nails, covered by chipped red nail polish. A thin wedding ring stood out on her ring finger - she was married, just like Maggie had thought.

The girl shifted on her feet. Mrs Evans was almost done with the files from her old school, and the girl could feel her stomach knotting with the rising tension, she had to remind herself how to breathe.

Mrs Evans’s eyes stopped over one of the last lines, making Maggie’s heart skip a beat.

_‘Did I do something wrong?’_

It wasn’t the first time she changed school, and she had already contacted the woman through e-mails several times to explain her situation, so her forms should have been all right, but…

Leonardo Da Vinci High was an _extremely_ prestigious school. Both Mrs Evans and the headmaster had mentioned it more than once. Not only it had strong connections with one of the most prestigious universities of the United States of America, one that each year made it to the list of most important universities in the entire _world_ , the high school itself was highly renowned, attracting students from all over the world. It even had a whole campus-like building to house them, just like the nearby University.

Of course, that also reflected in the fees. How Maggie had managed to get a full scholarship, she would never know. She had always managed without problems in school, she had even skipped a grade, but she wasn’t anything special, and none of her previous schools had been particularly demanding… surely, there had been a mistake. On top of that, Mrs Evans looked quite cross. She had been fairly annoyed when Maggie had shown up in her office, snatching the papers from her hands without uttering a single word.

Finally, after what felt like a century, the woman raised her head from the sheets.

A weight plummeted in Maggie’s stomach. She knew what was about to happen: Mrs Evans would offer her a small, fake smile, then she would start saying, gently but coldly, that there had been a mistake. No, Maggie wasn’t suitable for the school, how could it have even crossed her mind to enrol there? Anyway, she’d better leave, and quickly, and she shouldn’t even think about setting a single foot on the school’s ground ever again. And then… then she would have to go home and tell Steve what had happened. The last part made Maggie’s blood run cold.

Mrs Evans smiled, but it was a tired, tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Maggie held her breath and clenched her hands even harder, almost unaware of the way her nails were digging into her soft palms, leaving red marks.

“Well, I’d say everything is in order,” Mrs Evans declared. She sounded brisk, but not unkind. “Your grades are exceptional, I see you’ve even skipped a year… I don’t think you’ll have any problem settling in.”

It took Maggie a few moments to fully understand those words, and when she finally did the wave of relief that washed over her was so intense that it made her head spin. It wasn’t what she had expected. It _definitely_ wasn’t what she had expected… but she wasn’t about to complain.

“O-okay. Thank you,” she muttered clumsily, her voice so faint that Mrs Evans probably didn’t even hear her.

The woman was already at work, her fingers running over the keyboard.

“Marguerite Williams, is it? Sophomore… here, this is your schedule.”

Mrs Evans pushed ‘enter’ with more force than necessary, and the printer behind her shoulders started up.

“God, which idiot can even think about having his children transfer like this in the middle of October…” Maggie heard the woman mutter as she turned to take the papers.

Her stomach immediately twisted, but when Mrs Evans addressed her again she looked as composed as she had been before.

“Class schedule, your locker’s number and combination, and this is the note you should show your teachers,” she explained, pointing at each paper before handing them to Maggie.

The girl analysed her schedule.

_‘First period, English. Room 2A. That is… Where?’_

From what she had glimpsed, the school was huge, she could easily get lost without managing to find the right room before the end of the period…

Maggie lifted her eyes on Mrs Evans, but the woman was working on something on the computer as if she had completely forgotten the girl standing in front of her. It wouldn’t have been the first time.

Maggie waited a few minutes, but Mrs Evans didn’t even spare a glance at her and was visibly growing more and more disgruntled as she examined whatever was on the computer’s screen.

Annoying her further wasn’t something Maggie was looking forward to, but the alternative was getting lost as she wandered across the school, getting detention and having to tell Steve why she was late. Crossing Mrs Evans suddenly looked more appealing.

“Mrs Evans?” Maggie asked shyly.

The woman tore her eyes from the computer’s screen.

“Why are you still here?” she snapped.

Maggie instinctively took a step back.

“A-actually I… Might I have a map of the school, please?” she stammered, proud of her idea. It was an excellent solution. A map of the school. They had to have one somewhere, didn’t they?

Mrs Evans looked at her with a different expression, as if struck by an epiphany.

“Right,” she sighed, “I suppose nobody has shown you the school yet, and…”

Before the woman could finish talking, the office’s door swung open, making Maggie instinctively turn with a startled gasp.

“Mrs Evaans!” shouted the boy who was standing in the doorway.

Maggie was momentarily taken aback by the sight in front of her eyes. The boy was… _bright_. Everything about him seemed to ooze confidence, vitality. He was standing straight, with his shoulders squared and his hands carelessly tucked inside the pockets of a pair of faded jeans that, along with a blue hoodie, fitted perfectly his tall, athletic body. His eyes seemed to glow behind a pair of steel-rimmed glasses, and they were the most vivid cornflower blue Maggie had ever seen; up to that moment, she would have even considered impossible for human eyes to be of such an intense hue of blue. The rest of the boy wasn’t any less notable. A golden tan complimented his straight nose and the delicate features of his face, and straight dark blond hair framed his head, completely ordered except for a stubborn strand that stuck out in front of his hairline.

Such a handsome boy surely had to be just as popular - and Maggie had been staring at him, she realized suddenly. She immediately looked down at her feet, fidgeting in embarrassment.

“Jones,” Mrs Evans greeted coldly. Judging from the intonation of her voice, she seemed to be pondering whether to strangle the boy or hit her own head against the desk.

“It’s Tuesday. _How_ are you already in trouble?”

“But I got in only two minutes late!” whined the boy, “Only two minutes! And it wasn’t even my fault, I…”

“I. Don’t. Care.” Mrs Evans interrupted him, her voice as cold as ice. “You are getting detention after school.”

“Hey, that’s not…” the boy tried to protest, but he was immediately silenced.

“I don’t have time to waste with your whining! And since I doubt Mr Sherburne would welcome you in class, go to the library or something…”

Jones seemed to decide that complaining further wouldn’t be wise, because he turned to the door - and at that moment, he realized he wasn’t alone in the room.

“Whoa, have you been here the whole time?” he asked, staring at Maggie. “I didn’t see you… What did you do? Already in trouble… I had never thought I would be beaten by a freshman!”

The last thing Maggie had expected was the boy to notice her, let alone _talk_ to her, so she didn’t have an answer ready. Her surprise was so great that it took her a few moments to even _realize_ she was supposed to reply, but Mrs Evans beat her before she could come up with something.

 “Unlike _somebody else in this room_ , she didn’t do anything wrong, Jones,” she said dryly as she finished scribbling down the boy’s note. “And she’s not even a freshman, for the record.”

Jones gave Maggie a quizzical look.

“You aren’t?” He asked without hiding his astonishment, “But… How is that possible? I mean, how can I have not seen you before?”

Maggie blushed violently, tightening her hold on the sheets. She knew she wasn’t beautiful, but she had never thought to be so ugly that she had to be noticed… Actually, she had always considered herself rather plain and unremarkable, seeing how people usually ignored her.

Mrs Evans let out a long, tired sigh.

“She just transferred, Jones,” she explained in Maggie’s place. From her voice, she seemed to have settled on throttling the boy.

At that point, Maggie only hoped to be dismissed quickly. For how unpleasant anonymity could be, it surely was nothing compared to being on a popular boy’s radar. She was perfectly aware she wasn’t beautiful, _thank you very much_. She didn’t need to hear it from somebody else.

“Well, this explains everything,” Jones commented jovially, “So, you are…?”

Once again, Maggie was caught by surprise by the question. She didn’t think the knowledge of her name was needed to mock her… Not that Jones would remember it for more than a few minutes, but still…

And for the third time, Mrs Evans was the one who saved her.

“This is Madeline Wilkins,” the woman said, her voice suddenly lighter. She sounded almost _satisfied._

Maggie bit her lower lip. She was used to people getting her name wrong, but she _had_ said it only a few minutes earlier…

“And since you have a free period, why don’t you keep flirting with her as you show her around?”

Maggie jerked her head up, her eyes widening in horror. Oh, now she _did_ understand why Mrs Evans had sounded so pleased: this way, she wouldn’t have to take care of Maggie herself…

_She can’t be serious!_

A teacher wouldn’t leave her in the hands of a bully, would she? …Apparently, yes.

“Of course, leave it to the Hero!” answered Jones, a wide smile plastered on his face. “Let’s go, m’lady!”

Apparently unaware of Maggie’s panic, he swung his left arm around her shoulders and led her through the door.

Maggie automatically followed the boy’s steps, keeping her body rigid. She couldn’t figure out what he wanted. In spite of her first impression that Jones was mocking her, there was nothing in his demeanour that might suggest so, excluding his off-hand comment.

Once they had put some distance between them and Mrs Evans’s office, Alfred stopped and released the girl, turning towards her.

“That woman can be a real harpy, try not to get on her bad side,” he said with a conniving air, winking. “Anyway, I’m Alfred F Jones, otherwise known as the Hero! And whatever people tell you, the ‘F’ stands for ‘Freedom’.”

Maggie blinked. Her first assumption seemed even more wrong. The boy was positively _beaming_ , his bright white teeth on display, and his voice sounded lively, seemingly lacking any malice.

Hesitantly, the girl took the offered hand. It seemed huge around her much smaller one, and the skin was callouses, but the hold felt firm and pleasantly warm.

“Marguerite Williams,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, before Alfred could learn the wrong name.

Maggie was aware that it was stupid, Alfred was bound to forget in a few moments, but she didn’t like when people referred to her by a name that wasn’t hers.

Alfred blinked in confusion.

“Wait, wasn’t your name Madeline?”

Maggie could feel her face heating up.

“N-no, Mrs Evans said it wrong. It’s Marguerite. But everybody calls me Maggie.”

“Oh, okay,” was Alfred’s only comment as he shrugged. He smiled again. “Maggie, then! Let’s get down to business!”

Without any warning, the boy snatched the papers from the girl’s hands. Firstly, he led her to the locker, without stopping talking for a single moment. _(“So, what grade are you in?” “Oh, cool, I’m in grade ten too! What are your favourite subjects? I hate literature, I just don’t get why we have to lose time studying things written by people who have been dead for ages…”)_

Unused to anybody paying her so much attention, Maggie struggled to come up with the answers, but Alfred didn’t seem to mind, and each question was immediately followed by another one, mixed with the boy’s comments. Moreover, in spite of his previous remark, he didn’t seem to have any intention of mocking her. Maggie was starting to think that it hadn’t been a snipe at how horrible she looked, but an awkward attempt at putting her at ease, if not a completely innocent observation. Alfred _did_ sound like the kind of person who would be familiar with every student in the school and immediately spot an new face.

Only after Maggie had finished tucking her books inside the locker Alfred stopped talking. Taken aback by the unexpected silence, Maggie looked up to find the boy leaning against the next locker, staring at her with a strange expression, something between puzzlement and curiosity.

“Is there something wrong?” Maggie asked immediately as a familiar wave of panic bubbled up her throat.

Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe Alfred actually meant to tease her… not that Maggie could have blamed him. With her stuttered and monosyllabic answers, she certainly hadn’t made a good impression.

“You don’t have a coat,” Alfred pointed out unexpectedly. “Weren’t you cold this morning? Why don’t you have one?”

His voice sounded kind, and it almost held a note of… concern? Was it possible?

It took Maggie a moment to answer.

“Oh… Oh, no, I… Well, you see, I used to live near Ottawa, and it was way colder than here, especially at this time of the year…”

Alfred’s blank stare suggested the girl that he didn’t have the slightest idea of what she was talking about.

“Ottawa. Canada’s capital?”

A spark of understanding lit Alfred’s eyes.

“Oh, yeah, Canada! I see. This weather must feel like summer to you, then,” he said, as if that settled the question.

Which wasn’t properly true - Alfred seemed to hold the opinion that Canada’s entire territory was marked by a perennial winter, but Maggie let it slide. She was simply relieved that her lack of a coat had been solved so easily, she didn’t want to think about how hurriedly she had snuck out of the house as Steve’s swearing in the background started growing louder and louder…

Maggie shuddered. When she got back, she would have to face the consequences of her actions.

“Hey, you okay? You kinda spaced out…”

Alfred’s words shook her out of her thoughts. The boy’s blue eyes were fixed on her, clouded by a trace of concern. In spite of Maggie’s automatic nod, his expression didn’t change.

“You sure? You’re not getting sick, are you? Canadian or not, it was pretty cold this morning… and waiting at the bus stop is never pleasant.”

“Oh, but I walked, I didn’t have to take the bus,” Maggie answered softly, trying to mask her surprise at Alfred’s concern, which seemed genuine. “So I warmed up quickly.”

She couldn't even recall feeling cold that morning. She hadn’t noticed the temperature at all, actually, too spooked by seeing Steve so out of control at that time of the morning, but it sounded like a believable excuse.

Alfred nodded, his features finally relaxing.

“Makes sense. Where do you live?”

Once again, Maggie was taken out of surprise by the question. She couldn’t see why it would matter to Alfred… was that what small talk was like? Yes, it was probably that.

“Near the beginning of Madison Street,” she answered anyway.

She wasn’t expecting Alfred’s face to lit up like it did.

“Hey, you must live next to Francis’s house, then!” he exclaimed, “He was saying that he was getting new neighbours…”

“Oh, yeah. Francis is a friend of Dad’s,” he added immediately after, probably seeing Maggie’s confusion. “His best friend, actually. Kinda. I mean, they argue all the time over petty things, but they’re actually very close. And… oh!” Alfred’s eyes widened with a sudden realization. “ _Marguerite_ …”

_‘What’s wrong with my name?’_

Maggie stiffened. Alfred was almost rolling her name on his tongue, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Hey, that’s French, isn’t it? Do you speak French?”

“Yes?” Maggie answered hesitantly, unsure of where the conversation was headed.

To her further confusion, Alfred chuckled.

“Oh, man, Francis’s gonna be so happy! He’s French, you know? The frenchiest French to have ever existed, probably. You know, he’s been living here since college, that was like, almost twenty years ago, and he still refuses to drop his accent! He’s always complaining about not being able to speak French to anybody… Don’t be scared if he hogs you to speak French, okay? He’s in France right now and I don’t think he’ll be back until the end of the week, but once he is he’ll totally want to talk to you in French… he’s not a bad person, I swear. He's only a bit... Overenthusiastic at times.”

Maggie nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Speaking in French sounded wonderful, actually, it had been such a long time…

"Oh... You have an English surname and a French name, so I guess that the French part comes from your mother, right?"

Maggie hesitated before giving a small nod, her stomach clenching. The situation was far more complicated than that... But she didn't feel like discussing it with Alfred, for how nice he was, he was still a near-stranger.

The boy frowned, running a hand through his hair.

"Oh man... He's totally going to flirt with her. But please don't get angry, okay? He's just... He's not being serious, he would never truly try anything with a married woman, it's just his behaviour I guess..."

"Okay. No problem," Maggie answered softly.

A sudden pang of pain surged through her chest. Her mother would have loved to meet this Francis, probably. Flirting had been a second nature to her, and she had always preferred French over English. She would have played Francis at his own game and later laughed about it with Steve… but that was never going to happen.

Luckily, Alfred didn't seem to have sensed her turmoil.

“Well then, enough of this," he declared, "Shall we go on with our tour?”

Maggie immediately nodded, forcing herself to focus back on the present situation. Dwelling in the past wasn't going to help anybody.

For the next thirty minutes, the girl found herself following Alfred through the maze of the school - that was huge, just like she had supposed - while the boy rattled off whatever ran through his mind, easily keeping Maggie from getting back to her melancholic thoughts. By the end of their tour, the girl was aware of most of the social circles that were in the school, which teachers were considered sterner and which were the elective courses one should choose for an easy A, but, especially, she had gained an astonishing amount of information about Alfred.

The boy was the quarterback of the football team (not the captain because he was still only a sophomore, but he was definitely going to be the captain next year), seemed to be on friendly term with most of the school, except for some Russian _(“Freaking Communist!”)_ senior, didn’t like the food they served on the cafeteria _(“It’s too bland! What’s with all the dietetic crap? It tastes like cardboard!”),_ was good at maths and physics and liked coding, while he hated any subject that actually demanded him to study and was horrible at geography, which Maggie had already guessed.

But, more importantly, he seemed to be completely unable of keeping quiet, he hadn’t stopped talking for a single moment. Maggie didn’t mind. For how loud Alfred was, he seemed to be genuinely kind, his smile looked authentic and his blue eyes - Maggie still couldn’t fully believe human eyes could be of such an intense colour - were lively and warm at the same time.

From what he had said, the girl was sure he was very popular, and she was just as certain that he would completely forget about her after that hour, but the time she was spending with him was turning out to be surprisingly pleasant, so she was determined to enjoy each stolen moment before getting back to her usual invisibility.

Too early, the two teens wounded up in front of the room that was supposed to hold Maggie’s first class of the day.

“It’s just a few minutes until the end of the period, do you want to wait until the next one?” asked Alfred.

Maggie shook her head.

“Oh, no, I don’t want to waste any more of your time.”

Alfred pouted slightly.

“Hey, helping a young lady in need on her first day of school is not a waste of time! Really, I can take you straight to your next class…”

“Oh, n-no, thank you, really, but you have already done enough,” Maggie retorted quickly.

Alfred was extremely helpful, but he surely had something he would rather do instead of showing her around, and Maggie already felt guilty for occupying most of what could have been a free period; she didn’t want to detain him any longer.

“And Mrs Evans said I have to introduce myself to the teachers…”

“As you wish…” sighed Alfred, so nice that he even feigned disappointment. “If you’re really sure…”

 _‘No, I’m not,’_ Maggie wished she could say as she looked the boy’s hand, clenched into a fist, getting closer to the door. _‘Behind that door, there’s a whole class full of strangers… I don’t know what to do, I can’t deal with so many people, I won’t know what to say and I will either look like a stupid or nobody will even notice me… Please please get me away from here…’_

Alfred’s hand struck the wooden door. Without waiting for an answer, the boy thrust it open and strode into the room, dragging Maggie with him.

“Mr Bronson!” the boy greeted loudly.

Mr Bronson - a man Maggie judged to be in his early sixties or late fifties, tall and a bit heavy-set, with greying hair that was starting to thin around the temples and bright brown eyes on a surprisingly smooth face - turned to Alfred with an expression that looked half annoyed and half desolate.

“Alfred Franklin Jones,” he greeted coldly, “I was sure I had avoided you this year, what are you doing in my class?”

( _So that was what the ‘F’ in Alfred’s name stood for? ‘Franklin’? Why on earth would he tell her it was ‘Freedom’? Weird… Then again, Maggie shouldn’t be the one to talk._ )

“Don’t worry, I didn’t miss you either,” Alfred reassured him cheekily, “I’m here to carry out my heroic duties! Mrs Evans told me to take care of the new girl, and I had to bring her here after showing her around.”

Alfred moved to a side, pointing at Maggie. The girl suddenly found herself under the scrutiny of the teacher - and undoubtedly, of the students that filled the room.

Maggie stared at her feet. Her throat suddenly felt dry, and her stomach was flipping.

“Oh, right,” Mr Bronson muttered, “I had completely forgotten you were supposed to arrive today… Jones, you are free to go.”

The boy didn’t need to be told twice. He headed towards the door with confident strides, but before going out he stopped and turned to Maggie.

“See you around!” he said with a bright smile and a wave of his hand, then the door closed behind his retreating back.

Mr Bronson cleared his throat.

“Well, since the period is almost over, why don’t you introduce yourself?”

He was smiling in a way that was clearly meant to be warm and reassuring, and Maggie _did_ appreciate the effort he was putting into it, but a mere facial expression could do nothing to ease what was about to come. Swallowing in an effort to bring some relief to her painfully dry throat, the girl turned to the rest of the students and lifted her eyes, trying to force her lips into a smile that came out looking more like a pained grimace.

“I-it’s nice to meet you all,” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m Marguerite Williams, but everybody calls me Maggie. I just transferred here, I lived near Ottawa until a few days ago…”

_Wow, that was lame._

But seriously, what else could she say? Maggie had heard people talk about their interests sometimes, but she sincerely doubted anybody would be interested in _hers_. Or maybe she could have added a stock phrase like _‘I hope we’ll be great friends’_ or something, but that would have made her sound so haughty… not to mention that she already knew that it wasn’t going to happen.

Mr Bronson cocked an eyebrow.

“Okay then, Maggie. Don’t you have anything else to say?”

The girl could only stare at him with a lost expression. She knew she had said too little, but she honestly had no idea of what to add without sounding like an idiot.

“Eh…”

Somebody snickered.

Maggie blushed and trained her eyes on her shoes, clenching her hands. Her stomach was churning, she was suddenly really glad that she hadn't had breakfast.

“Well, since this is an English literature class, why don’t you tell me what your favourite book is?”

Mr Bronson’s voice was sweet in an almost condescending way, and when she lifted her eyes Maggie saw that his face was still sporting an encouraging smile.

There were a thousand things Maggie could have said at that question. In fact, she would have been able to go on for _hours_ talking about books… but for some reason, her mind was completely blank at that moment; all she could think about was how everybody’s eyes were trained on her, ready to jump at her first misstep like a pack of hungry wolves.

“So? Come on, there is no need to be shy. You are going…”

Whatever Maggie was going to do was lost in the ringing of the bell that tore through the awkward silence, marking the end of the period. All the other students immediately lost their interest in Maggie as they started to gather their belongings, chatting with their friends.

Maggie could find no words to express how thankful she felt for the perfect timing. Quickly, before she could embarrass herself any further, the girl took her leave from Mr Bronson and headed towards the next classroom, mingling unnoticed with the wave of teens that filled the corridors.

The next periods followed more or less the same pattern: Maggie handed the note to a perplexed teacher, the action was followed by an increasingly pitiful introduction, and the girl was finally relegated to an empty desk and promptly forgotten. Which was a blessing, considering how she managed to make a fool of herself each time she had to speak in front of so many strangers.

Lunch break finally came, and Maggie managed to sneak unseen out of the room to take shelter in the library. As she had hoped, it was almost empty, and the girl easily found an unoccupied table in a secluded spot.

She immediately started doing her homework as she munched an apple, the only way she knew to divert her mind from the nerve-wracking morning. Literature was quite easy, Maggie had already studied those subjects in her previous school, while she was slightly behind with Biology, but a quick review of her notes confirmed what she had already guessed during the lesson, which was that the autonomous study she had done in preparation for the new school was more than sufficient.

The break ended too soon for Maggie’s liking, but at least the time spent on the books had allowed her to calm down a little - which meant she didn't feel like she was going to throw up any moment, but it was better than nothing.

Forcing her breaths to follow a regular pattern, Maggie gathered her notebooks and headed towards the room that held her next period, Maths.

_‘I can do it. Only two hours left.’_

By the time the girl had reached the classroom, she had changed her mind. There was no way she was going to be able to endure another period like the previous ones, she realized as she stared at the closed door. Not on the same day. Being invisible was one thing, it wasn’t always pleasant but she could put up with it, but showing off in front of so many people, having to look at their bored and disinterested eyes only to be left in a corner, like a broken toy the owner had lost interest in… no, she couldn’t do it.

And yet, she had no other option.

With detachment, like it didn’t even belong to herself, Maggie looked at her white hand as it leaned on the door handle, applying just enough pressure to open the door soundlessly. She knew what was going to happen: in the best scenario, somebody would raise his head and look at her briefly, only to forget about her a minute later and go back to his previous occupation, or more likely, the girl would find herself standing in a corner, without knowing what to do, completely overlooked by the room’s occupants.

But Maggie hadn’t considered a factor - a factor that had Alfred Jones’s bright eyes and wide smile.

As soon as she stepped into the classroom, the girl was greeted by a gleeful exclamation, immediately followed by a loud “There you are, Maggie!”

Taken completely by surprise, Maggie stopped dead, staring wide-eyed at Alfred’s beaming face.

“Come here, I kept you a seat!” said the boy, pointing at the empty desk at his right.

Maggie needed a few moments to understand his words. Everything suggested that she had misunderstood, there was no reason a boy like Alfred Jones - nice, cheerful, handsome, _undoubtedly popular_ \- would not only remember her, but also want her to sit next to him…

And yet, Alfred was still there, looking at her with a warm smile on his face.

The girl was overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude and relief so intense that it almost brought tears to her eyes. She was sure that it was nothing personal, Alfred was simply a nice person, but regardless of the reason, it was the first time in years that she felt accepted, almost welcome.

Quickly, before something could shatter the illusion, Maggie crossed the room and sank on the offered chair, her head spinning.

Alfred’s smile widened.

Maggie wanted to hug him, kiss him and at the same time burst into tears, but she managed to restrain herself and reciprocate with a hesitant smile.

“Thank you,” she whispered, looking at Alfred with shining eyes.

The boy shrugged.

“For what? Keeping you a seat? Hey, that was nothing! It was the least I could do, considering it’s your first day and you don’t know anybody… and I’m the Hero! It’s part of my duty to make sure you feel welcome! By the way, where were you at lunch? I was looking for you, but I couldn’t find you anywhere…”

Maggie straightened on her seat.

“Really?” escaped her lips before she could think of something cleverer to say.

“Sure!” answered Alfred, unaware of the girl’s perturbation. “Since you don’t know anybody, I wanted to introduce you to some people… By the way, this is Tolys Laurinaitis!”

Maggie’s attention shifted to the boy sitting at Alfred’s left. Slightly shorter than Alfred, Tolys was pale and slender, with blue-green eyes and slightly wavy brown hair that was parted in the middle and almost reached his shoulders. He looked quite anonymous, dressed in what looked like a slightly worn-out green sweater, but his features and eyes spoke about a gentleness that immediately made Maggie take a liking to him.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, smiling. His voice carried a foreign accent that Maggie couldn’t identify (it sounder East-European, but she couldn’t have said from where) and was fainter than Alfred’s, and his smile more reserved, but not lacking warmth.

“The pleasure is mine,” Maggie answered automatically, smiling shyly. “I’m Maggie Williams.”

“I know, Alfred kept talking about you the whole time.”

At those words, Maggie’s attention went back to Alfred, surprised and insecure at the same time. She didn’t remember doing something particularly embarrassing in front of the boy, but then again, she might not have realized it…

Alfred looked slightly flustered.

“Well, it’s not every day that you get to escort a transfer student…” he said sheepishly before quickly changing topic. “Anyway, how was your morning? What do you think of the school?”

Maggie shrugged.

“It’s not bad,” she said, deciding to stay vague. She didn’t know Alfred well enough to know the answer he was expecting, and she didn’t want to disappoint him. “The teachers seem good, and the program is not much different from the one I had before…”

“Did you follow the same classes in Canada?” asked Tolys, and the girl, deeming it a safe subject, launched into an explanation of Canadian school system, while Alfred and Tolys (but mainly Alfred) sometimes remarked highlighting the differences from the American one.

Maggie couldn’t recall the last time she had talked so much, but she slowly found herself relaxing.

Alfred was just as loud and lively as he had been that morning, but his demeanour felt welcoming, while Tolys was much more discreet and quiet, but not less kind, and he seemed to be trying to put Maggie at ease.

“I don’t envy you, having to introduce yourself in front of everybody mustn’t be easy…” he said at one point, “But don’t worry, the worst should be over. I think that between three different classes you should have already met a lot of people, maybe the teachers will stop asking you to talk…”

Alfred didn’t seem to understand the problem - then again, Maggie was quite sure somebody like him wouldn’t feel uncomfortable even if he had to talk naked in front of a crowd of strangers. There was something in Alfred that made her think that he was born to be at the centre of attention. Yet, for an unfathomable reason, the boy had chosen to get to the classroom early with Tolys so he could sit next to Maggie.

The girl was so engrossed in the conversation that she didn’t realize that other students had started filling the classroom until she heard the loud thud of a bag being dropped on her desk.

Maggie gasped and turned abruptly, finding herself face to face with a glowering girl.

_‘Uh oh…’_

There was no mistaking the antagonizing approach: the girl was leaning towards Maggie in a clearly intimidating manner, one of her hands flat on the desk next to a designer bag, her fingers spread, the long nails sporting a flawless bright red nail polish. The other hand was resting on the girl’s hip, over a black skin-tight skirt that barely reached her mid-thigh. The social status wasn’t hard to guess, either: every single detail in the girl’s appearance seemed to be meticulously planned. Light brown hair framed her head in carefully arranged waves that ended up in ringlets slightly below her collarbone, a touch of golden eyeshadow enhanced both her tanned skin and light brown eyes, making them look bigger, the knitted eyebrows were masterfully painted. Her lips were tight and drawn, but Maggie could still recognize the subtle lipstick that made them look shinier and darker. A red shirt (exactly the same colour as the nail-polish) encased the girl’s upper body, evidencing her flat abdomen and a modest breast enhanced by a clearly padded bra, and opened with a frill at the waist, giving the illusion of a narrower waist point. The look was completed by a heavy gold necklace and red and golden bracelets adorning the girls’ wrists.

_One of the popular girls._

And for some reason, Maggie had managed to get on her bad side without having ever seen her before - no, that wasn’t true. She could recall getting a glimpse of the girl in one of the previous periods. Maggie quickly retraced the day, trying to understand which of her actions could have provoked such a fury in the girl in front of her, but her mind was blank.

“What are you trying to do?” hissed the girl, “This is my seat.”

_Oh._

_OH!_

Of course, everything was clear. How had she not realized it before? Alfred was so friendly that she had ended up forgetting about it, but a boy like him had to be popular, and consequently, the aim of girls far more beautiful and confident than Maggie was.

Girls exactly like the one standing in front of her.

“Sorry, I…” she found herself stammering as she blushed and lowered her eyes, unable to hold the other girl’s fierce glare. “I didn’t know this was your seat, I’m really, really sorry, I’ll move right now.”

“You’d better.”

Maggie hurriedly grabbed her bag and started to get up, keeping her head down.

A hand on her wrist, kind but firm, stopped her.

“I don’t recall this seat being yours, Alyssa,” said Alfred.

While not unkind, his voice sounded cold, and turning to him Maggie saw that his features were tight - he wasn’t exactly frowning, but he looked close to it.

“But I always sit next to you!” whined Alyssa, pouting.

Her tone was completely different, it retained nothing of the coldness that had been there when she had addressed Maggie, and Alyssa was bending towards the boy, her cleavage in plain view.

Alfred wasn’t impressed.

“And? It’s not like we always sit in the same places. I asked Maggie to sit here, and you should be nice to her, it’s her first day! Why don’t you sit with your friends?”

It wasn’t what Maggie would have expected. Nor Alyssa, apparently, for instead of retorting she gaped at Alfred, her eyes wide with astonishment, before snapping back to Maggie. She stared at her for a few moments, wordlessly, furrowing her brow and wrinkling her nose as if she were looking at a cockroach.

Maggie lowered her eyes. She started twisting a strand of hair in her fingers, suddenly painfully aware of how unflattering and unsophisticated her clothes were (a loose blue and red checkered shirt that reached her mid-thigh and a pair of blue leggings. Comfortable, but nowhere close to something that could be called fashionable…) and _God_ , her hair was stupid… it was straight at the top, cut in a short, messy side-bang, but there was that one single curl that always stubbornly refused to conform to the rest of the hair, dangling in front of her face… Maggie had to use every inch of her will to prevent her hands from running up to try to smooth it down. It would be useless anyway, it would only make her look more pathetic.

Unexpectedly, Alyssa smiled. It looked so fake that Maggie briefly wondered why she was even trying.

“Oh, of course, I hadn’t thought about it!” Alyssa chirped, “Oh, Alfred, you are always so nice… it’s just like you to be welcoming to the transfer student…” The girl shrugged. “Of course, I can lend you this seat for a few days. Marguerite Williams, is it? I’m Alyssa Westbrook. I’m in the cheerleader team… if you need anything you can ask me, okay?”

And with a small wave of her hand, Alyssa headed towards a group of girls who were whispering at the other side of the room.

Alfred shook his head.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into her…”

“I’m sorry,” Maggie muttered, “I didn’t want to get you in troubles with her… You have been very nice to me, really, but you don’t have to sit next to me… I’m so very sorry, really, I…”

Alfred stopped her, holding up one hand.

“Whoa, whoa, hold on! There’s no problem, really! Aand honestly, it’s not like I enjoy sitting next to Alyssa, she can be so annoying… I don’t understand why she won’t leave me alone!”

_‘Does he seriously not realize it?’_

That short exchange had been enough for Maggie to notice how the other girl moved around Alfred, flaunting her body, and Alfred must have been around her for at least one year, how was it possible that he hadn’t seen anything?

“Are you really sure you don’t want me to move?” Maggie asked shyly, avoiding mentioning the other issue.

“Of course!” Alfred answered immediately, beaming. “I wouldn’t have saved you the seat otherwise.”

“Don’t worry about Alyssa,” Tolys interjected with a surprising vehemence. “You shouldn’t listen to her, she’s just a spoiled bitch.”

The boy was looking askance at the group of girls Alyssa had joined, who were muttering animatedly.

Confused, Maggie turned to Alfred, hoping for an explanation, but at the same moment, the teacher walked into the room, and the boy shrugged.

The following period turned out to be much better than the previous ones: Mrs Sheonang, a tall and slim woman in her fifties, seemed quite demanding but even more competent. More importantly, she accepted Maggie’s note with a nod, telling her not to hesitate to ask if she needed any additional explanation, and almost skipped the introduction part, simply mentioning to the class that Maggie (whom some of them had already met, as Mrs Sheonang remarked) was a new student and she would stay with them for the rest of the year. Maggie’s esteem for her new teacher raised incommensurably at that, but it wasn’t the only thing that put her at ease: Alfred and Tolys’ presence unexpectedly lightened the mood. They didn’t find the time to talk, the teacher demanded an absolute silence, but more than once Maggie found herself locking eyes with Alfred, who answered with a reassuring smile or a wink.

The period came to an end quickly, and Maggie found out with unexpected pleasure that she would also share with the two boys the following class, World History.

Alfred even insisted on carrying her bag ( _“What kind of hero would I be, if I let a girl carry such a heavy bag?”),_ which initially led Maggie to wish she could bury herself from the embarrassment - it was like everybody in the corridor could suddenly see her, she could feel their eyes pierce her back as if she had a target painted on it - but at the same time left her a bit flattered.

They had almost reached the room when a shout echoed through the corridor.

“Liet, wait for me!”

A moment later, Maggie saw Tolys stumble, hit by a boy who enveloped him in a hug from behind.

Alfred chuckled at Maggie’s alarmed expression.

“Don’t worry, it’s all regular! Maggie, this is Feliks. His surname is impossible to pronounce, don’t even ask. He’s from Poland.”

Feliks was shorter than Tolys almost by a whole head, slight and pale skinned, with delicate features. He had big, slightly slanted forest green eyes and his shoulder-length golden blond hair was parted in the middle and so straight and glossy that it could have belonged to shampoo commercial.

“And Feliks, if you are back with us, this is Maggie.”

Feliks peered over Tolys’ shoulder, without relishing his hold on the taller boy’s sweater.

“Uhm…hi,” he muttered shyly, looking briefly at Maggie before turning his gaze down.

“Nice to meet you,” the girl answered with a weak smile.

Her stomach twisted, the nausea that had miraculously quelled down during the previous period resurfacing. She had felt at ease with Tolys and Alfred, but Feliks’s discomfort reminded her that she didn’t belong with them.

Alfred burst into a loud laughter.

“Whoa dude, don’t be like that! She’s not gonna eat you, I swear, she’s super nice. Seriously, Fel!”

At the same time, Tolys nudged Feliks with his elbow, and the boy finally detached himself from his friend’s back.

“Uhm… I actually already saw you,” he said with a little more confidence, but still without meeting Maggie’s eyes. “We have Biology together, but you probably didn’t see me, I was sitting in the back…”

“Oh! Actually, I remember seeing you!” Maggie blurted out before she could stop herself.

She had suddenly remembered catching a glimpse of Feliks in a class… but she hadn’t truly focused on him and she had mistaken him for a girl, due to a mixture of his pink sweater, delicate features and longish hair. _Oh well…_

At her words, Feliks suddenly beamed.

“Really? Well, I suppose I’m hard to miss!” he said loudly, startling Maggie.

Without warning, Feliks took a step closer and grabbed one of the girl’s twintails, bringing it to the front as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“By the way, I totally love your hair! It’s, like, so shiny and silky… and this colour is totally fabulous, it’s, like, almost impossible to get it with a dye, do you know?”

The sudden turn of his personality left Maggie gaping at him, her brain not prepared to handle that kind of situation.

_‘Did he just… compliment my hair?’_

Luckily, Tolys understood her uneasiness and dragged Feliks away with a soft sigh.

“Fel, this is too much… she’s really shy, I don’t think she likes being stared at like this. Come on, let’s get inside, you know how much Mr Trevis dislikes latecomers…”

Maggie followed the three boys into the classroom and stopped at the door as they settled in three desks in the second row. She would have liked to sit with them, but she feared she might have already bothered them enough for the day…

Once again, Alfred solved the dilemma for her, placing her bag in the seat next to his one.

“Come on Maggie, come here!”

The girl didn’t need to be told twice and she quickly slid next to him, disregarding the nasty looks Alyssa and her friends were giving her.

She was sure that Alfred would completely forget about her as soon as the novelty wore off, but there was nothing bad in enjoying a bit of human contact in the meantime, was it?

The class went on smoothly, Mr Trevis barely noticed Maggie’s presence and didn’t comment on it or ask her to introduce herself, which the girl took as an unexpected blessing, even though Alfred looked oddly annoyed.

The teacher was fairly young and didn’t have a tight grasp on his student, which resulted in a continuous chatting in the background. In that kind of situations, Maggie would have stayed silent, diligently trying to take notes, but for the first time in her life she found herself engaged in whispered conversations with Alfred, and the bell that marked the end of the period came so quickly that it took her by surprise.

“Ugh, I have another detention…” Alfred groaned as he gathered his notebook and pencils. “I would have asked you if you wanted to go for a walk, you know, see a bit of the town, but I don’t know when she’s going to let me go…”

“Oh… d-don’t worry, you have already done so much for me…” Maggie was quick to reassure him, taken aback. Being nice to her at school was one thing, but offering to spend some time with her outside school time? That was new. Just how nice could Alfred get?

Alfred snorted.

“But I wanted to show you around! Seriously, that woman is a harpy… she keeps giving me detentions!”

“Well, maybe she would stop if you arrived on time,” suggested Tolys, but before he could say more he was dragged away by an eager Feliks, who was blabbering something about an ice cream.

Maggie had already prepared her bag, but she found herself lingering next to the desk. She wanted to wait for Alfred, who was still trying to stack all his pencils inside their case, but at the same time, she didn’t want to come across as too stifling.

“Do you need a hand?” she decided to ask in the end, but in that exact moment, the boy finally managed to wedge in the pencils and swiftly zipped up the case before tossing it inside his backpack.

“Ok, I’m done!” he cheered, “Shall I lead you to your locker, _mademoiselle_?”

Maggie was positive she could have found her way back by herself, but she nodded. After all, Alfred was the one who was offering to help her, it wasn’t like she had forced him to…

Alfred kept a cheerful façade and went on talking to her, occasionally greeting somebody, but as they got closer to the locker his mood seemed to decline.

“Dad is going to kill me…” he groaned as Maggie opened her locker. “It’s the fifth time I get detention this month…”

The books fell from Maggie’s hand. The girl whirled to Alfred, her eyes wide, suddenly out of breath.

“Hey, are you ok?” the boy asked immediately as he bent down to retrieve the books, concern seeping through his voice.

Maggie remained still. Her head was spinning, she had to lean into the locker to keep herself upright.

“Maggie?”

Alfred was still kneeling on the ground, holding some of her books, but he had raised his head and was staring at her.

The girl forced herself to look at him.

“Will you be all right?” she found herself asking with a trembling voice, her eyes huge. “W-will he… I mean… y-your father…”

“W-what?”

Alfred’s wide eyes looked lost. He got to his feet, laying a hand on Maggie’s arm.

“Whoa, calm down! I was just exaggerating., Dad won’t do anything! I mean, yeah, he’s going to give me a good lecture on how I should be more respectful and sensible and blah blah, but aside from this…”

“Oh…” murmured Maggie.

“Oh, yes, of course!” she repeated a moment later, as soon as the meaning of Alfred’s words fully sank into her brain.

A forced giggle seeped through her lips.

_How can I have been so stupid? No one would hurt somebody like Alfred! Sure, he’s loud and he seems a bit absent-minded, but he looks like a good person…_

Maggie automatically grabbed the books the boy was holding out to her and stashed them inside the locker.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it, I’m just really tired…”

“Well, I might have been a bit overdramatic,” Alfred admitted with a sheepish smile. “Anyway, I’m sorry but I really have to go now… see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. H-have a good evening,” Maggie whispered, still too stunned to come up with something cleverer.

The boy walked away, but before going around the corner he turned back.

“I swear I’ll be on time tomorrow!” he shouted, winking.

Maggie waved back, smiling softly, and when Alfred’s broad shoulders disappeared behind the corner she collapsed against the locker.

She felt completely worn out, and she would have paid anything to be able to crawl under the comforter and stay there until the following day… and at the same time, she felt lighter than she had in years.

 _‘Alfred Jones,’_ Maggie found herself thinking as she headed tiredly towards her home, ‘ _Who are you, to be able to pay attention to such an insignificant girl as I am?’_

Maggie was aware that she shouldn’t raise her hopes. There wasn’t a single chance that a boy like Alfred could have any interest in somebody like her besides trying to be helpful, friendship was something far out of her range - as it should have been. People like her shouldn’t even interact with people like Alfred.

And at the same time, Maggie couldn’t stop thinking about him. Those blue eyes, so bright and lively, that wide smile, that loud voice… the simple thought of Alfred’s face was enough to bring a smile to her lips. That unexpected breach to her anonymous routine had left Maggie strangely energized, almost giddy. All in all, that first day of school had been far better than she had been expecting… it wouldn’t happen again, but that didn’t mean that everything would be completely horrible. Maybe leaving Canada wasn’t as awful as she had thought…

The girl was so engulfed in her thoughts that she didn’t pay any attention to the journey home, and the sight of her new house almost caught her by surprise.

Immediately, the giddiness she had been feeling up to that moment vanished, replaced by a growing sense of dread. In spite of his apparent eagerness to leave the small town they had been living him, somebody hadn’t taken the move and the last frantic days so well, and Maggie was the one who was going to have to deal with it.

The lights seemed off, but the car was still parked under the porch, which meant that Steve was home, excluding the unlikely option he had gotten away on foot, but with a little luck, he was already asleep.

With careful movements, Maggie climbed the steps that separated her from the doorway and inserted the key in the keyhole, turning it with the utmost consideration.

The door creaked lightly as Maggie opened it. The girl immediately froze, the breath caught in her throat, but the only answer was silence.

Silently, Maggie slid inside the softly-lit hallway and closed the door behind her.

For a moment she stood motionless, waiting for her eyes to grow accustomed to the lack of light, then she looked around.

A pair of dirty trainers had been dropped on the floor, but aside from them, everything seemed to be in order.

Maggie tiptoed through the hallway and over the living room, stealing only a quick glance at the figure sprawled over the sofa, with an arm draped over his face and the other dangling to the floor, next to an empty bottle of beer.

The girl was halfway through the stairs when a voice stopped her.

“And just where do you think you are going?”

Maggie stiffened. Steve’s voice was slurred from the alcohol and tinged with the annoyance of a growing headache.

“Come here, there’s something we need to talk about.”

The little colour it usually had was completely drained from Maggie’s face. Automatically, the girl turned and climbed down the stairs, keeping her eyes accurately trained on the steps. She could feel her stomach twist in protest, her heart starting to pound.

Only once she had reached the bottom Maggie dared to raise her head.

Steve had managed to drag himself to a sitting position, he was blinking as he tried to regain a bit of clarity.

After a long, endless moment that seemed to expand in the absolute stillness of the house, his eyes fell on Maggie. They were red and bloodshot, a clear sign of the intoxicated state he was in.

Maggie swallowed and lowered her eyes, training them on her feet, but that couldn’t block the sound of the shuffling steps that were heading towards her.

* * *

 

“Yes, Alfred, you already told me what a unique and extraordinary colour her hair was. With this one, it’s eight times. Yes, I’m keeping count. And I think the word you are looking for is ‘strawberry blonde’, not ‘some kind of golden blonde but not really blonde, very warm, with some kind of reddish hue’.”

Amusement seeped through Arthur’s voice. He was trying to sound annoyed, but Alfred knew him well enough to know he wasn’t, and there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Well, she has really pretty hair,” Alfred said in his defence, shrugging, because Maggie _did_ have beautiful hair.

Its bright, warm colour reminded Alfred of summer and gave light to the girl’s otherwise pale colouring, but, more importantly, it was so _long_ , going down to her butt in wavy twintails that ended in two mesmerizing ringlets. Alfred had had to restrain himself from trying to touch it.

He saw Arthur smirk as he dug the fork into his plate.

“Ah, yes. Pretty hair. I guess it’s such an icebreaker…”

Alfred huffed, rolling his eyes.

“I didn’t tell her, Dad!”

His father had been making fun of him since he had caught Alfred trying to flirt with a waitress that summer. Alfred thought that he had been doing well, and neither he nor the pretty waitress (Kate, according to the nametag) had been intentioned to carry the banter any further than a couple of light-hearted phrases, but Arthur seemed to find it incredibly amusing.

The man cocked one eyebrow as he swallowed his bite.

“Oh?”

“I just said that she’s pretty,” Alfred explained, “That’s… kind of objective. I mean, anybody could see that.”

Maggie looked almost like a porcelain doll, with her little, delicate pale face, high cheekbones, a slim, small noise whose round point turned upwards that stood over a pair of crimson lips, small but plump. What had gotten Alfred’s attention above everything else (aside from the hair), however, were her eyes. They were big, slightly slanted, framed by long, dark eyelashes, and they were of an amazing colour, a delicate pale lilac. It seemed to fit Maggie perfectly, it was in complete harmony with her porcelain-white skin, enforcing the impression of delicacy given by the girl’s appearance.

And in spite of that…

“But she’s not a girl you flirt with just for fun.”

Somehow, Arthur looked even more amused at that, the smirk now clearly evident on his lips.

“Because you only flirt with some kind of girls.”

Alfred sighed, rolling his eyes.

_‘And people say I am the oblivious one…’_

It was a real wonder how his father had managed to get married, in Alfred’s opinion. Alfred knew that Arthur initially attracted women with his generally gentle and polite disposition, but the truth was, he didn’t have any idea of how to deal with romantic situations. Alfred strongly suspected that Francis had had a heavy hand in the outcome of his parents’ relationship. Or maybe it had been completely his mother’s doing. Alfred didn’t remember her well enough to know how she would deal with romance, but she had been lively and headstrong, and, according to his father, he was just like her.

“You only do some casual flirting with girls who might enjoy it,” Alfred explained patiently, “And Maggie looked too shy for that.”

‘Shy’ wasn’t enough to describe Maggie, actually. Most of the time, the girl had looked like she wanted to disappear, and what Alfred had found most puzzling was that she almost succeeded. It had something to do with the complete lack of confidence each of her movements screamed, but the girl somehow easily faded in the background, in spite of her remarkable appearance. Alfred himself hadn’t seen her in the beginning, even if they were in the same room, and he wasn’t sure he would have truly noticed her if he hadn’t been appointed to show her around - something he was very grateful for.

“Ah, I see. So you kept looking out for her because she looked uneasy?”

Arthur's smile was softer now, more genuine.

Alfred shrugged, shoving a bite of hamburger in his mouth.

“Yeah, of course. That’s what anybody should do, right? And it was nice, anyway. I mean, she was nice.”

Alfred had done most of the talking, he had realized later. Which wasn’t that unusual, but people usually grew tired of him after some time; instead, Maggie had just kept listening, without showing any sign of boredom, while she had said hardly anything about herself - and that only made Alfred more curious. There was something highly unusual about Maggie, he still hadn’t figured out what it was, except for the contrast between her low confidence and physical appearance, but he was confident that he was going to find out soon. That girl looked like she could use some friends, after all.

Arthur’s voice brought him back from his reverie.

“Well, for how pleasant this conversation about the new girl was, don’t think that I have forgotten what the original topic was. And _don’t_ look at me like that, Alfred Franklin Jones.”

Alfred barely restrained himself from groaning. His father looked serious now, his brows knitted over his sharp eyes. There was no escaping the lecture.

_‘Well, at least I tried.’_

Sighing internally, Alfred prepared himself for the well-rehearsed talk on respect and responsibilities. His father was way too strict about that, he had only been a few minutes late… but at least he wasn’t punishing him, and in twenty minutes everything would be back to the norm. Arthur would probably get back in a good mood as soon as he heard about Francis and Maggie’s mum, actually. In spite of the temporary annoyance, Alfred would say that it had been a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about using Madeline for Canada’s name as most of the fandom, but I prefer the name Himaruya suggested for her, Marguerite. I like how its meaning goes with Canada’s personality. Basically, Marguerite can be translated in two different English names, Margaret (and its variations), that comes from Greek and means ‘pearl’, and Daisy ('marguerite' is the name of the daisy flower in French). However, I have a strong dislike for the name ‘Meg’, so I decided to use ‘Maggie’ for short. It sounds sweeter anyway. And I’ll mostly use Maggie, since from all the media you English-speaking people seem to have the strange habit of going mostly by your nickname, even in semi-formal settings? (please correct me if I’m wrong on this)  
> Always about Maggie, you may have noticed that she doesn’t wear glasses. There is a reason for this, I’ll explain next chapter, but in any case, Himaruya has drawn younger America and Canada both with and without glasses, so I think that it gives writers kinda free reign to decide at what age they started needing them. Alfred still wears glasses because I have a hard time imagining him without them, they’re like an indelible part of his character in my mind.
> 
> Arthur is Alfred’s father, and his mother is Nyo!America (Amelia F. Jones). Alfred has her surname for reasons that will be explained in later chapters.
> 
> Steve is an OC, and so are Alyssa and the secretary at the beginning. There will be a lot of OCs in this story, being so long I needed a lot of characters, and I didn’t feel like using Hetalia characters as antagonists. All the main characters will be from Hetalia, however.
> 
> On more important matters: I’ve been working on this story since March of last year. I usually don’t like romance, but there was a moment in which I craved for a cliché, long AmericaxFem!Canada high school story, and I couldn’t find anything I liked. Since I had some free time, I just went like ‘Oh well, I’m going to write one myself’. I didn’t think it would turn out to be very long, like, 40k words at most, but I surprisingly found myself having a blast writing this story, so it just… went on, turning into a novel-length, slow burn, cheesy and cliché high school romance story. I’m warning you again: this is cliché and predictable, and probably the most self-indulging thing I’ve ever written (and family and friendship have a big focus too, not only romance. Alfred and Maggie won’t just fall in love like that, they will get to know each other and discover what they have in common, and some of the issues Maggie is facing are too big to be solved by another teen. This is why Francis and Arthur are main characters too…) This is why I’m so reluctant about posting it, actually. To this point, I have about 100k words written in Italian, of which about 40k are already translated. I don’t know if anybody is interested in this, and this is very different from what I usually write, so many times I’ve contemplated whether abandoning this story or not, since I also have other ideas. I’ll leave the decision to you. (also, in case you liked it, it will probably be a couple of months before I can get to something close to a regular updating schedule, because I want to have at least everything translated and still work on my Gen stories, too)
> 
> Please let me know what you think! And if you have any question don’t hesitate asking. If you want to remain anonymous, you can also find me on tumblr, [@feyna-v](https://feyna-v.tumblr.com).
> 
>  **EDIT!** I have changed Lithuania's name to its more accurate version, Tolys, since the most accepted fanon version (probably results of an inaccurate transliteration from Katakana) isn't actually a real Lithuanian name. I wrote a more detailed post about it on tumblr [[x](https://feyna-v.tumblr.com/post/171013874995/hetalia-human-names-and-accuracy)], if anybody is interested. It's not actually a big deal, but I wanted to warn you.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here I am again! Thank you so, so much for the feedback, especially for the comments. I truly wasn’t expecting something like this, I don’t know if you can realize how much this means to me!
> 
>  **Warnings:** there are implications of child abuse (non-graphic, though).   
>  English isn’t my first language, I apologize of the mistakes. Also, there is a lot of exposition is this chapter, I’m sorry! (and the plot is very slow, but I had already warned you about this...)
> 
> Anyway, I hope you’ll like it!

Maggie was staring carefully at the reflection on the full-body mirror in front of her.

The girl who looked back was pale, and there were faint bags under her lilac eyes, but luckily they weren’t too pronounced.

(No, reading until 3 am hadn’t been such a great idea in the hindsight. But reading was basically the only thing that kept Maggie somehow sane. She had needed to calm down at first, and after that, she had ended up being completely sucked into the book…)

Her slim legs were covered by a pair of black leggings, and her upper body was enveloped in a loose red long-sleeved tunic that almost reached her mid-thigh. Maggie turned to have a better look at her body. The shirt couldn’t completely hide her big breasts - too big for her otherwise slight frame - and the neckline was a bit too loose, showing the straps of the black tank top she was wearing underneath, but it was decent. And, more importantly, the sleeves were long enough to completely cover her arms and too tight to rise up without her noticing.

Maggie sighed. She should be grateful that her face was unmarred - unless completely drunk, Steve was careful enough not to leave marks where they could be easily seen - but the pain that shot up in her body every time she made a sharp movement foretold that those bruises weren’t going to fade quickly. She was particularly worried about her left wrist, she could still bend it, but she would have to be really careful not to show the purple mark that enveloped it…

 _‘Gym is in two days,’_ Maggie found herself thinking as she brushed her long hair and tied it in her usual twintails. _‘I could change in the bathroom, but I don’t even know if there is one in the changing room…’_

Usually, there was, but she couldn’t stop worrying unless she was completely sure.

The girl’s eyes swept around the room, looking for her sneakers, and as soon as she located them they fell on the ice skates and hockey stick right next to them.

Hockey had been an excellent sport. It was extremely violent, and hiding some extra bruises among the ones Maggie got playing was easy. That was probably the reason Steve let her play in the first place, in spite of regarding the sport as expensive and not feminine.

 _‘They might have a hockey team here.’_ Maggie mused as she slipped on her shoes. _‘There isn’t an ice rink inside the school, but I’ve seen one that’s not far, they might have an agreement… I should ask Alfred.’_

With her mood remarkably improved by the thought of hockey - and Alfred - Maggie headed towards the kitchen. Steve was already out, so she didn’t have to hurry, she could have breakfast and maybe even cook something for lunch. Maggie wasn’t actually hungry, she hardly ever was and the way her stomach was still painfully cramped from the hits it had taken didn’t help, but keeping up the appearances was important. She hadn’t even had dinner the previous day, so it was probably the right time to get some nutrients into her body…

 _‘If only there was something edible.’_ Maggie realized a moment later, crestfallen, staring at the fridge and the cupboard. Both were sadly empty, excluding several bottles of beer.

_Wow, somebody got his priorities straight…_

As soon as the thought crossed her mind Maggie violently shook her head, clenching her firsts until she could feel her nails dig into her palms.

_‘I have to stop thinking this way. It’s not Steve’s fault, he needs to relax after working so much. He wouldn’t even have to drink this way if it weren’t for me…’_

Besides, Steve wasn’t the one in charge of the groceries, so it was Maggie’s fault if there was no food. Luckily, Steve was working late, which meant that she had time to go shopping after school and he wouldn’t even have to know.

Resigned to stay with an empty stomach, Maggie put on her coat, grabbed her bag and got out of the door, diving into the crisp morning air.

Not having had breakfast had its advantages, she realized a few moments later: the previous day she had been in a hurry, but now she could walk calmly, admiring for the first time the surroundings.

It didn’t take Maggie long to realize how objectively nice her new living arrangement was. Just like Joshua had promised, the house was in a residential area at the outskirts of the town, surrounded by other homely, ordered houses in the middle of well-kept gardens sided by clean sidewalks. Everything looked surprisingly flat, but it wasn’t unpleasant. There wasn’t much traffic (but people were probably already at work), and in spite of that, Maggie was passed by at least five busses before she reached the school.

For how much the memory of their old, silent house at the edge of the woods still tugged at Maggie’s heartstrings, it was easy to see why Steve had been so happy about the arrangement. He had always complained about living too far from his workplace, even when Chloé had still been alive, and now it would be easier for him. Maggie had no rights to be selfish.

 _‘And it might not even be that bad,’_ the girl told herself as she climbed the stairs that led to the main entrance, recalling the previous day. While she didn’t think that she was going to repeat the experience, it had still been nice.

Maggie started heading absentmindedly towards her locker, trying to stay out of the way of other students, but as soon as she saw her destination she halted in her tracks.

Leaning against her locker, with a relaxed stance but a slightly tense expression, was Alfred Jones.

Maggie’s heart missed a beat.

Alfred _had_ told her he would have been there, but she hadn’t thought he was truly going to remember…

“Alfred?”

Maggie’s voice was barely louder than a whisper, but Alfred raised his head, and when his bright blue eyes focused on her his lips curved into a huge smile.

“Hey, Maggie! How are you doing?”

“It’s all right.” The girl answered automatically, but as soon as the words went past her lips she realized that she was telling the truth.

She was tired, she hadn’t eaten and her bruises were pulsing painfully, but everything seemed to fade before Alfred’s warm smile and the seemingly genuine happiness that shone in his eyes as he looked at her.

“See? Today I’m on time!” Alfred declared triumphantly.

Maggie realized that she was smiling.

“Glad to be useful.”

Under Alfred’s eyes, the girl placed her coat inside the locker and took out the books she needed, then the two headed towards the first class of the day.

They were halfway through the corridor when Tolys and Feliks reached them.

The latter hadn’t completed his physics homework, so Alfred enthusiastically offered to help him. The boy, however, in spite of having a good understanding of the subject, clearly wasn’t cut for explaining it, and after a few minutes surrendered and let Feliks copy his exercises, heedless of Tolys’ faint complaints _(“You can’t just let him copy, he’ll never learn anything!”_ ).

The boy’s attention focused a second time on Maggie who, sitting next to him, had watched the scene silently, not daring to intervene.

“Do you have something to do after school these days?”

The question caught her by surprise.

“What?”

Alfred shrugged.

“If you are free, would you like to go somewhere after school? I could show you around.”

For a moment Maggie thought that she had misunderstood something, or that the boy was kidding - not mocking her, Alfred didn’t seem that kind of person, but…

“Are you serious?”

_Why on earth would you ask me out?_

Maggie couldn’t remember the last time something like that had happened. It had probably been before her mother had fallen ill, but even then she hadn’t been exactly what would be called a popular child.

Alfred’s smile wavered a little.

“Uhm yeah, of course? But if you don’t want to…”

Maggie blushed violently.

“Oh, no, no, I mean, yes, of course I do! It’s just…” the girl stopped, not knowing how to go on without sounding like an idiot, but Alfred looked reassured.

“Oh, okay! Actually, today I can’t, I have football practice, but we could do something tomorrow?”

Maggie nodded, slightly dazed. She still couldn’t fully realize the fact that _Alfred Jones_ , quarterback, completely stunning, extroverted and most likely one of the most popular boys in the school, had just asked her out.

_It’s not a date. He certainly didn’t mean it to be a date._

Which still didn’t erase that the boy had asked her out.

Suddenly, Maggie recalled what she had meant to ask Alfred.

“Sorry if I ask you this… but is there a hockey team in the school?”

“Yes, there is.” Alfred answered immediately, raising his eyebrows in confusion. “Why do you… oh!”

A large smile returned to his face.

“Oh, that’s right, you are Canadian, Canadians love hockey… It’s not a big team, but you can watch their matches if you want.”

“No, that’s not it,” Maggie interrupted him, “It’s just…. Well, I was on the hockey team at my old school, I’d like to keep playing… do you know who should I speak to?”

Her words were met with a heavy silence, and only then Maggie realized that Tolys and Feliks had stopped bickering over their Physics homework and were watching them.

“You?” Alfred asked, staring incredulously at her, his eyes wide.

Maggie blushed under his piercing gaze, lowering her eyes.

“I- I know I don’t look like it,” she muttered, “But actually I’m not bad, I’ve been playing for years…”

“That’s not the problem.” chimed in Tolys.

 When Maggie dared to look up again, she saw that the second boy looked quite perplexed as well, maybe even a little worried.

“The point is that we only have a mixed team, and, well…”

“No offence, but you are so tiny!” Alfred went on, his voice laced with concern. “Tolys plays, but he’s, like, one of the smallest!”

“That’s totally not true, there’s Raivis, Lukas, Emil…” Feliks commented, but Alfred ignored him.

“The others are huge! And yes, there are two girls, but they are a lot bigger than you! You could be seriously hurt…!”

“Oh…”

That was simply _perfect_. Even better than what Maggie had previously thought. If the other players were so big and violent, her bruises would be so easy to justify…

“I’m stronger than I look,” she found herself saying, “And I know I don’t look like much, but I’m pretty quick.”

The girl turned to Tolys.

“When do you play? Could I talk to the captain or your coach?”

The teen hesitated before answering, evidently worried.

“I don’t see why you shouldn’t let her try.” interjected a feminine voice with a strong East European accent. “If she says she can do it, it means she can.”

Maggie started and whirled towards the source of the voice

“Nat! I didn’t see you!” Tolys exclaimed at the same time.

Maggie’s first impression of the girl who had talked was that she would have been perfect to play the part of the Ice Queen in a fairy tale. She was pale and stunning, her chiselled oval face had high and pronounced cheekbones, a thin and straight nose and arched eyebrows knitted over blue-grey slanted eyes. Her hair was platinum blond, straight and shiny, it almost reached her mid-back and was parted in the middle, held back from her face with a white ribbon. Her tall body was worthy of a model, slender and feminine, dressed in a way that made its owner almost look like a porcelain doll - a frilly white blouse tucked at the waist into a purple circle skirt that reached just above the girl’s knees, dark stockings and black shiny flats - yet there was something in the sharp lines of her face and in the way she was standing perfectly straight, with her arms folded in front of her chest, that gave Maggie an impression of icy detachment.

“Natalya Arlovskaya.” The girl said evenly as she extended her right hand towards Maggie, ignoring Tolys.

“I’m Maggie Williams, nice to meet you.” Maggie muttered, squeezing automatically the offered hand, taken aback by the blunt approach.

“So, do you want to be in the hockey team?”

“Err… Yes?”

Maggie wrapped her arms around herself as her stomach twisted under the other girl’s sharp gaze.

“My brother is the captain, practice is on Monday, Wednesday and Friday after school. He’s at home today, he had a cold, but tomorrow he should come back to school. I can introduce you to him.”

“Ah… Thank you. If it’s not a problem…”

Natalya frowned.

“I cannot see how it should be, it’s his job as the team captain.”

Maggie forced her lips to curl into a hesitant smile.

“Well, in any case, thank you, really. You are so kind…”

“No, I’m not.” Natalya cut her off coldly, “Don’t think I’m doing this for you, it’s nothing personal. I just don’t like when boys think that a girl can’t compete with them only because she’s physically smaller, and think they have the right to tell her what to do.”

“Nobody meant that!” Alfred objected instantly, “It’s just that…”

If looks could kill, Alfred would have been a smoky heap of ashes on the ground after the glare Natalya sent him.

“Just that _what,_ Jones?” she interrupted him. Her voice was calm and cold, but her expression clearly showed that the boy had better shut up if he valued his life.

Alfred frowned, but he elected to ignore Natalya. Which, in Maggie’s opinion, said _a lot_ about how fearsome the girl was.

“I didn’t mean to imply that you aren’t able to play hockey,” Alfred said instead, addressing Maggie. “But believe me, those boys are huge… I’m not kidding, you could be badly hurt. It has already happened, and you are so small…”

Maggie shrugged.

“I can manage, really.” she murmured, “You’re nice to worry about me, but you don’t have to… Okay, I’m not some kind of prodigy, but I’ve been playing since I was little, and I’ve already played with boys. I’m quick, I don’t get hurt easily.”

_And if sometimes it happens, even better. At least I can wear t-shirts without having to worry about hiding my bruises._

“If you are really sure…” Alfred sighed, in spite of the doubtful expression that lingered on his face.

Not that Maggie could blame him, her physical appearance certainly didn’t mark her as a good hockey player, nor did her hesitant demeanour.

Natalya snorted.

“And you should talk louder.” She declared, dropping her bag on the empty desk at Maggie’s right. “Honestly, you look pathetic. Newsflash: this place is a lion’s den. Have you already met the cheerleaders? They’ll tear you to pieces if you don’t assert yourself.”

Without waiting for an answer, Natalya sat down and started reading a book she had pulled out of her bag.

Maggie sat down wordlessly, keeping her head down, her stomach churning.

Her eyes were stinging, but she swallowed and managed to hold back the tears. Natalya was completely right, she _was_ pathetic. She had always been, and it wasn’t going to change soon. The boys’ attention had made her forget that for a moment, and Natalya’s words had been unexpected, which was probably why they hit her so hard, but Maggie shouldn’t have been surprised by them.

A big, reassuring hand landed on her left shoulder.

Alfred.

“Uhm… don’t worry about what she said, ok?” the boy’s voice was a bit hesitant and lower than usual. “She’s probably in a bad mood, you’re not pathetic, don’t listen to her.”

Maggie answered with a strained smile. She knew that Alfred’s words weren’t true, but it was quite sweet of him, and she could at least appreciate it.

“Nat is just a bit blunt,” said Tolys, “Last year she had some bad experiences with the other girls, I think she only wanted to warn you about them.”

Before Maggie could ask him to elaborate, the teacher walked into the room, and the girl ended up focusing on the lesson, dismissing the problem. It wasn’t even her place to ask, after all.

The rest of the morning went on quickly, and Maggie didn’t have time to talk to the boys, because they didn’t share the following periods. She did share them with Natalya, however, but the other girl didn’t offer her a single word. In spite of that, Natalya still sat next to her. Maggie didn’t know what to make out of her behaviour.

When lunchtime finally came, Maggie was intentioned to go to the library and start her homework, just like the previous day, but once again, she hadn’t taken into consideration Alfred.

The boy showed up in front of the classroom, beaming.

“I told you I wanted to introduce you to my friends, didn’t I?” he said at the girl’s noticeable puzzlement.

Without waiting for an answer, Alfred grabbed her arm and started dragging her along the corridor, unaware of the pained grimace on Maggie’s face. Alfred’s fingers were digging right into one of her worst bruises, but the girl quickly schooled her face into a neutral expression. It wasn’t that bad, after all, she had had far worse.

“Where are we going?” she tried to ask as the boy navigated confidently through the corridors, headed in a direction that Maggie couldn’t recognize, but surely wasn’t that of the cafeteria.

“It’s a surprise!” was the single, cheerful answer Alfred deigned to give her.

Never relishing the hold on her arm, Alfred led her to what seemed to be an unused wing of the school, then through some flight of stairs, until they finally reached a fire door at the top.

It looked heavy, but Alfred opened it effortlessly.

“Ladies first.” He said with a gesture of his hand as he held the door.

Maggie stepped out, her stomach clenched at the uncertainty.

A gust of wind blew her hair out of her face, and the girl had to squint to adjust her eyes to the sudden brightness - they had to be on the roof.

Her entrance was met with a cheerful exclamation. Before Maggie could even register what was happening, she found herself enveloped in a pair of slender arms and pressed against a boy’s lean chest.

The girl froze, the breath caught in her throat, her brain unable to grasp the situation.

“Ciao, you must be Maggie!” the stranger said cheerfully at the same time.

“Feli!” a stern voice barked, and suddenly the girl was free.

Alfred was laughing.

Maggie had to blink a few times before her surroundings came into focus.

Two boys were standing right in front of her. One was barely a few inches from her, he had to be the one who had hugged her. He was slender and a bit on the short side, and his skin was fair but with an olive undertone. His hair was a glossy dark auburn, short and straight except for a curl that stood from the left side of his head, somehow defying the law of gravity. His beaming face had delicate, almost feminine features and was lit by a pair of huge eyes of an incredibly warm and bright colour, a liquid golden amber. Maggie had never seen eyes like that, they were as remarkable as Alfred’s and just as lively.

The second boy was huge and built like a tank, quite taller than Alfred and evidently buff, with shockingly broad shoulders for a teenager. His squared face, with strong features and fair skin, was sour, his sharp eyebrows knit over a pair of bright sky blue eyes, a bit lighter than Alfred’s. The stern vibe was accentuated by his slicked back, light blond hair. He was holding the smaller boy from the scruff of his neck - he must have dragged him away from Maggie.

A few steps behind them stood a boy of obvious Asian origin (Japanese, maybe? Maggie wasn’t sure), even smaller and slimmer than the auburn-haired boy, with sleek black hair in a bow cut and big, almond-shaped light brown eyes. His face was schooled into a neutral expression, and his stiff posture, along with the fact he was a bit distanced from the others, gave Maggie the impression of a quiet and introverted person.

“Feliciano Vargas and Ludwig Beilschmidt, juniors, and Kiku Honda, senior.” Said Alfred, walking to Maggie’s side and pointing respectively at the auburn-haired boy, the blond and the Japanese boy.

“And this is Maggie Williams, guys.”

“N-nice to meet you.” Maggie muttered, the thought of being at the centre of everybody’s attention filling her with uneasiness.

Kiku and Ludwig answered respectively with a soft smile and a nod, while Feliciano let out a high-pitched giggle and hugged her enthusiastically. There was nothing that could have prepared Maggie to react to the situation, so she stayed still until the boy released her.

“Ve~” he chirped, “I’m so glad to finally meet you! You know, Alfred talked about you the whole time yesterday… You are just as pretty as he said!”

“Feli!” Ludwig and Alfred scolded him simultaneously.

Maggie blushed, automatically wrapping her arms around herself.

_He’s mocking me, isn’t he?_

It would have been the most likely option, but Feliciano’s wide smile and bright eyes looked sincere, and the boy looked everything but cruel enough to tease other people that way.

 _He’s trying to put me at ease, then_ , Maggie understood suddenly. Yes, that was probably right. The girl relaxed slightly.

Heedless of the other boys’ rebukes, Feliciano went on talking.

“And your eyes are such a gorgeous colour… I had already seen violet, but this shade of lilac is the first time, you know?”

Now that she was calmer, Maggie was able to notice that the boy’s voice had an oddly musical intonation and a slight foreign accent - Italian, maybe? Maggie wasn’t sure.

“Feli, cut it out, can’t you see you are making her uncomfortable?” barked Ludwig.

His speech carried a German accent, instead - not too strong, but still detectable. He probably was of German descent, given his name. And he also looked remarkably like the stereotypical German boy, even if that wasn’t a true indicator of anything.

“Sorry about him,” Ludwig went on, addressing Maggie. “He’s always like this, he has no concept of personal space and he cannot read the atmosphere to save his life… but he doesn’t do it on purpose, he doesn’t even realize he’s behaving inappropriately. He doesn’t mean anything bad, he wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

Maggie nodded. With some effort, she managed to curl her lips into a weak smile.

“There’s no problem, really.”

A bit further away, Kiku had taken Feliciano aside and was scolding him quietly. Feliciano’s features dropped in a slight sulk, but he didn’t seem to be complaining.

“Well then!” said Alfred, inching closer to Maggie and casually swinging an arm over her shoulders.

The girl stiffened as she felt her face heating up.

Ludwig’s forehead creased in a frown. He almost looked about to say something, then he changed his mind and shook his head, looking at Alfred with an expression that looked partly annoyed and partly resigned. It wasn’t the first time Maggie saw Alfred’s exuberant antics cause that kind of reaction.

“Shall we start eating?” Alfred went on, “I’m literally dying of hunger…”

“Pastaaa!!!” Feliciano cried out, throwing his arms to the sky, an ecstatic expression on his face.

It must have been a common occurrence because nobody commented on the boy’s bizarre behaviour. Ludwig let out an exasperated sigh, but that was the major reaction.

The four boys, plus Maggie, sat down in a corner of the roof basked in the sun, and a moment later Feliciano was gobbling some pasta with a green sauce from a big box.

Maggie blinked.

_And where did that come from? I didn’t even see him reach out for his bag…_

In the meantime, the other three boys were pulling their lunches out of their schoolbags, and only at that moment, Maggie realized the troublesome situation she was getting into.

“Don’t you have something to eat?” asked right then Alfred, who had just pried open a box in which an impressive amount of fish and chips and been squeezed.

“Eh…”

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t even ask you if you needed to buy something from the cafeteria before I dragged you here… Why didn’t you stop me?”

Having to buy her lunch from the cafeteria would have been a good excuse. If only Maggie had some money with her. And if the food weren’t that expensive. Maggie had taken a quick look at the menu the previous day, and there was no way she could afford to eat in the cafeteria regularly.

Ludwig snorted.

“Yes, because it’s so easy to stop you once you have set your mind on something…”

Alfred frowned.

“No, no, it doesn’t matter, really,” Maggie said quickly, hoping to avoid an argument between the boys. “I wouldn’t have bought anything, I’m not hungry…”

Her statement was met by two horrified gasps.

“How can you be not hungry? Other ten minutes without food, and I would have died…” Alfred whined, his eyes wide.

“You cannot be not hungry!” Feliciano said at the same time, “Here, take some pasta, I have a lot!”

Before Maggie could answer, Feliciano’s box was placed in front of her face. It was filled with oddly-shaped pasta and cast a pleasant smell of garlic and basil, but at that moment, the girl’s stomach was completely shut.

“No, no, really.” She found herself saying, “This is really kind of you, but you don’t need to give me anything. I’m fine, really, I ate a lot at breakfast and I’m not hungry, really…”

It was only a half-lie. Even though she had skipped breakfast, Maggie didn’t feel any hunger, if anything, she was slightly nauseous. She didn’t know whether it was due to the stress, the bruises that were still throbbing painfully on her abdomen and making her stomach cramp, or a mixture of those two factors, but the mere thought of eating made the bile rise to the back of her throat.

And that was without considering that it wouldn’t be _fair_ of Maggie to take advantage of Feliciano’s kindness: _she_ was the one who had ‘forgotten’ her lunch, he shouldn’t have to give up some of his food because of that.

Doubt clouded Feliciano’s eyes, but he took back his lunch box.

“Are you really sure?” asked Alfred, his mouth already filled with food.

Maggie smiled and nodded.

The four boys looked sceptical at best, but before somebody could say anything else the fire door swung open, revealing Tolys, Feliks and Natalya, each with a paper bag (coming from the cafeteria, probably) in their hands.

The three teens reached the already seated ones and sat down next to them, Natalya a bit aside, while Feliks started complaining about the daily menu and the fact that the prices of the desserts had been raised.

A few moments later the slender shapes of a boy and the girl appeared on the roof, and they were introduced to Maggie as Raivis Galante and Erika Vogel, both freshmen.

Raivis was a slight, skittish boy with blue eyes and a cloud of fluffy-looking, curly sandy blond hair, and he was probably just as shy as Maggie, judging from how he blushed and stuttered his answer, lowering his eyes to avoid meeting Maggie’s. The girl felt her stomach knot at that, but nobody else seemed to find it bothersome.

Erika was delicate-looking, short and petite, with big teal eyes and straight dirty blond hair in a tomboyish bob, with a messy bang that covered her forehead and a few longer strands framing her face. She offered Maggie a slight smile, but didn’t show any other reaction - or didn’t seem to, at least.

The other teens’ arrival had managed to take most of the attention away from Maggie, and soon everybody was involved in more or less animated conversations as the girl listened. She was used to slipping into anonymity when she was among a lot of people, and she felt more at ease in the role of a listener than at the centre of the attention, besides, being as silent as she was, people tended to forget about her presence.

Oddly, things didn’t go that way. The other teens were talking between each other, but often somebody tried to include Maggie in the conversation or asked a few questions, especially Alfred and Feliciano - but they both seemed to be overly talkative, so it probably meant nothing.

However, even when he wasn’t talking to her, Alfred’s eyes often met Maggie’s, and each time he gave her a warm smile.

During the lunch, Maggie was able to obtain various information about the other teens.

Feliciano and Ludwig played soccer on the same team and were in the newspaper club with Kiku, while Raivis played hockey as well and seemed to be terrified by the captain, whose name Maggie found out to be Ivan - something that didn’t stand right with Natalya. The girl seemed to idolize his older brother, and any negative comment about him was met by her murderous gaze. Which was probably the origin of the tension between her and Alfred, seeing that the boy seemed to have a deep dislike for Ivan (the ‘communist’ he had been talking about the previous day, apparently).

Erika had an older brother she held on a pedestal, as well, but from what Maggie had been able to understand he was much older than her, and around the same age as Feliciano’s father. Maggie found the other girl intriguing. She spoke kindly and her voice was soft, but at the same time she sat with her back straight, and her unwavering gaze showed very little of what she was truly thinking.

Kiku was polite to the point of seeming detached, but Maggie had seen his expression soften when he talked with the other teens, especially Ludwig, Feliciano and Alfred, whom he seemed to be particularly fond of.

Ludwig was quite peculiar, too. At a first glance he looked brisk and sullen, but from the endless patience he met Feliciano’s vitality with Maggie was starting to think he was simply a bit awkward. In spite of his aloof appearance, he was also quite attentive - he asked her a few more times if she was sure she wanted nothing to eat, and whatever he was doing his eyes always followed Feliciano, as if to make sure nothing happened to him. (after seeing the Italian boy almost trip over nothing, Maggie couldn’t really blame him.)

Ad the girl had already partially guessed, Tolys and Feliks were another couple of friends that completed each other, one quiet and polite, the other, once past the shyness he had when he first met strangers, was lively and whimsical. Maggie learned that their families had come to America roughly at the same time, when both children were still in grade school, and living next to each other the two had quickly become inseparable. And she could bet Tolys had a crush on Natalya: he kept sending her adoring glances and was constantly trying to start a conversation with her. The girl turned down each of his attempts, but she didn’t look too annoyed, simply indifferent.

And then there was Alfred. Alfred who gorged himself as if he hadn’t eaten in ten months, talked with his mouth still filled with food, accompanying his words with ample movements, cut off the others to make himself heard, with his blue eyes shimmering behind the glasses as he animatedly recounted the last program he had been developing during his elective class. Alfred who was simply _wonderful_ , so lively that he seemed to brighten everything that was around him.

More than once Maggie realized she had been staring at him, mesmerized, and she shook herself only when the boys’ eyes met hers - which was surprisingly often.

Basked in the sun, surrounded by the lively chatting of the other teens, Maggie felt herself slowly relaxing, and when Ludwig declared it was time to get back she was surprised by a sudden pang of regret.

The girl waited a few moments before getting up and closed her eyes, lifting her head to savour the warmth of the sunrays caressing her face.

A shadow stood in front of her, blocking the sun.

Maggie opened her eyes to see that the culprit was Alfred, who was staring at her with a hesitant smile, his right hand extended towards her.

“Shall we go?”

Maggie hesitantly placed her hand over the boy’s bigger one, and a moment later she was dragged to her feet with an unexpected force.

The girl wavered, black spots filling her vision. Alfred’s hands quickly went to her shoulders, stabilizing her.

“Whoa there, careful! Are you all right?”

Maggie’s vision gradually cleared.

“Y-yes. Sorry, I wasn’t ready, you pulled me up so suddenly…”

“Is a bit of gentleness too much for you? Seriously, you are no better than a sailor…” scoffed Natalya, frowning at Alfred.

The boy shrugged, offering Maggie a sheepish half-smile.

“You’d better hurry if you don’t want to be late.” Cut in Kiku, stopping the argument before it could begin.

The teens started heading towards the door, filling the air with displeased mumbles.

Maggie was going down the stairs, a few steps behind Alfred, when she felt a hand land gently on her right shoulder.

Startled, the girl whirled around and found herself face to face with Feliciano, who had a huge smile plastered on his face.

“I’ll bring you something for lunch tomorrow!” the boy declared, skipping a few steps to bring himself at her side.

Maggie blushed. She had thought her lack of food had been forgotten, but evidently, it wasn’t so.

“Oh, thank you, but there’s no need, really, you don’t have to…” she found herself stammering.

“No way!” Feliciano interrupted her, “Have you ever eaten _real_ Italian food?”

Maggie had to shake her head.

Feliciano’s eyes went huge, making him look horrified.

“You absolutely have to eat it, then! Believe me, you cannot say you have truly lived until you have tasted Italian food! I cannot let this atrocity slide! I’m cooking for you tomorrow!”

Maggie bit her lower lip.

“You’re very kind, but I can’t, you don’t have to…”

Feliciano was so kind and friendly… she couldn’t exploit him that way, she barely even knew him.

“I don’t think it would be a bother for Feli, he spends half of his free time cooking!” chimed in Alfred, “And he does it for everybody if this makes you feel more comfortable.”

Feliciano nodded enthusiastically.

“Cooking is relaxing! And what’s better than sharing what I’ve cooked with my friends? Consider it like a welcome gift!”

Maggie felt more uneasy each passing moment, the weight at the pit of her stomach growing heavier and heavier.

 _There_ lay the problem: she wasn’t Feliciano’s friend. She had done nothing to deserve that label, nor a ‘welcome gift’. Feliciano was treating her that way because he was kind, but he didn’t know her… and there was no way a person as lively and dynamic as he was would want to spend some time with her. Soon, he was going to get bored and forget about her, and Maggie didn’t want to waste his time (and money! Food wasn’t free…).

“I thank you very much, really, but I swear there’s no need to cook for me, you have all already been so nice to me…”

“Let it go, you won’t change his mind.” Ludwig’s deep voice cut in unexpectedly. “When Feli puts his mind on something there’s no way to stop him, even less if food is involved…” The boy shook his head. “Just go along with it, you’d only upset him if you kept insisting.”

Maggie took a better look at Feliciano.

The boy was looking at her with such a hopeful expression, his warm honey-coloured eyes huge, like a lost puppy, that Maggie felt her heart melt.

 _How_ had she not realized it? Ludwig was right, she had been behaving horribly. It didn’t matter what made her uncomfortable, Feliciano was so sincerely kind-hearted that doing something for her would probably make him feel better… and that alone was another reason why Maggie didn’t deserve his kindness, but she didn’t know a way to refuse without upsetting him.

Maggie lowered her head.

“Uhm… thank you very much, then.” She muttered, “I don’t really know how to thank you, you’re so kind…”

“Perfetto!” exclaimed Feliciano, beaming.

Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Ludwig’s arm and started running down the stairs, dragging the German boy with him.

“Come on Luddy, we have to go, or we’ll be late!”

Taken by surprise, the taller boy stumbled and needed a moment to regain his momentum, hissing something in German that sounded suspiciously like a swear.

Alfred laughed.

A moment before turning the corner, Feliciano turned back to the two younger teens.

“Ciao, Alfred! Ciao, bella, see you tomorrow!” and with that, he was gone.

_Bella?_

That wasn’t Maggie’s name. That alone wasn’t strange, but usually, people at least called her something similar to her real name… Mattie, Maddie, sometimes even Maisie, but Bella had to be a record…

“He didn’t forget your name.” said Alfred, and Maggie realized with horror that she had talked out loud. “It means ‘beautiful’ in Italian, or something. I think it’s a way Italians use to address girls. Feli’s Italian, by the way. Born there and lived there until he was six.”

“Oh… yeah, I had guessed.” Maggie admitted.

Alfred nodded.

“Accent gave him away, uh? And it has gotten a lot better, you should have heard it when he was younger… and you haven’t heard his brother. Feli lived in the north, so it’s a bit different, but Lovino sounds exactly like your typical Italian from a crappy movie when he’s angry, no kidding.”

Maggie hummed. She hadn’t even known Feliciano had a brother, until that moment.

“And the best thing is: everybody has a bit of an odd accent here.” Alfred went on, “You surely have noticed, but I’m the only American born here. Everybody comes from a different place. You already know about Feliks and Tolys, Natalya’s mum is from Belarus but she also lived for a while in Russia, and Ludwig’s from Germany, Kiku from Japan, Erika from Liechtenstein and Raivis from Latvia. And they weren’t here today, but there are other two guys, Lukas and Emil, who are half-brothers and come from Norway and Iceland, and their cousin Mikkel - he’s my captain, by the way - is from Denmark. And now we have you, and you are Canadian. Pretty cool, uh?”

Maggie found herself nodding along with Alfred’s words, because yes, it was, even for a school with a high rate of international students. How many odds were for a such a heterogeneous group of people to come together?

“What do you have now?” asked Alfred, who was done with his considerations on ethnicity. “You have an elective, don’t you? I have gym, but I don’t think we are in the same class…”

“French.” answered Maggie, “Both periods.”

The thought of not seeing Alfred until the following morning gave her an odd feeling of emptiness. Even worse, neither Tolys nor Feliks had French as elective. Even Natalya would have been welcome, but Maggie didn’t remember seeing her name on the list, and she was quite sure she would have noticed if it were, given her surname.

The girl’s mood had definitely worsened by the time Alfred waved her goodbye in front of her classroom, and it didn’t get any better when she was met by the sight of Alyssa and her loyal pack of friends.

As Maggie found out later, the entire cheerleader team had chosen French as elective, probably hoping it would make them seem more alluring.

_Joy…_

The rest of the period wasn’t more satisfying.

The teacher, Therese Chevalier, had been born and lived in France until University, so she had a perfect accent and seemed prepared, but she was way too indulgent to deal with teenagers. Since Maggie was bilingual, she had been aware she would be above the class’ level, but she hadn’t thought it would be so bad. And it was supposed to be a _French Literature_ class, but most of the other students seemed to be struggling with the basics of French.

 _‘Well, at least I can do homework for other subjects,’_ she tried to console herself as the teacher was forced to translate the text they were reading and then explain another grammar rule.

More than once Maggie found herself on the verge of falling asleep, and the situation wasn’t helped by the prolonged lack of food that was starting to make her feel sluggish and light-headed.

Finally, the boring class came to its end.

Without paying too much attention to her surroundings, Maggie headed towards her locker, weaving through the swarm of students as she tried to avoid being hit or hitting someone.

She finally reached her destination, and she was arranging her books when the thud of a body leaning on the metallic shutter made her start.

_It cannot be Alfred, he told me he had to hurry for his football practice._

The girl slowly turned to the source of the noise, holding the books against her chest.

Alyssa was leaning against the locker next to hers, with her arms crossed under her breasts and her face marred by a deep scowl. Behind her stood four other girls that Maggie was sure she had already met in her previous periods, their expression and posture imitating those of their leader.

Maggie remained silent, willing herself to stay still as Alyssa’s eyes swept over her.

Not knowing what else to do, she started examining the girls behind Alyssa. There was an extremely thin, tall girl with green-grey eyes and pale sharp features framed by straight ash blonde hair that got slightly beyond her shoulders and covered her forehead with a perfect fringe, a second blonde whose hair was darker and wavier, held back by a pink headband, with a tanned skin a curvier and shorter physique compared to the first one. The third girl was slender, with her pale skin almost completely covered in freckles and green eyes rimmed with light brown. Her curly red hair was in a short, stylish asymmetric cut. The girl that was further from Maggie was curvy and dark-skinned, with huge black eyes and her black hair in a sleek bob cut. In spite of the differences in their looks, there were two things that kept the girls together: their meticulously planned appearance, and the confidence they seemed to ooze. The kind of confidence that made Maggie’s stomach twist painfully.

“You have spent a lot of time with Alfred, these days.” Alyssa said in the end.

Maggie narrowly stifled a whimper.

_Wonderful. For the first time, somebody is paying me attention, and it’s the boy the Alpha Bitch has set her eyes on._

Realizing that Maggie wasn’t going to answer, Alyssa went on talking.

“I only wanted to warn you, in case you were getting strange ideas: Alfred is kind, and he’s naturally attracted to social cases like you, but I can assure you it won’t last long. Wait for the novelty to wear off, and he won’t even remember your name. After all, Alfred is cool, he’s the quarterback of the football team and the only reason he isn’t the captain yet is that he’s too young, so ugly scum like you shouldn’t even dare to talk to him.”

The girl made a dramatic pause, letting her words sink fully.

“So, enjoy the limelight until it lasts, because it’s going to end soon. And you’d better remember, you little slut: Alfred is mine.”

Maggie lowered her eyes and sank her teeth into her lower lip. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth, yet she refused to look at Alyssa - she didn’t want to give her that satisfaction.

After a few moments, Alyssa emitted a soft huff and turned away, followed by the other girls. Only after the echo of their steps had faded in the distance Maggie set the books inside the locker with trembling hands and retrieved her coat.

_Stupid. Stupid! You are such a pathetic idiot!_

Alfred wasn’t like Alyssa had said. Alfred was athletic, popular, egocentric, loud and funny, but he was also kind and helpful. Alfred deserved a lot better than a superficial and spoiled girl as Alyssa, and Maggie was certain he wouldn’t be foiled by her cajoleries.

But Alyssa was right: Alfred deserved a lot better than _her_ , too.

For how nice he was, he wouldn’t be able to put up for long with somebody as dull and insignificant as Maggie was. Nor would it be fair to ask him to. Soon, he would have had enough of her, and with him the others. They would completely forget about her, and Maggie would find herself alone, relegated to a corner as she observed the lives of her peers that ran in front of her without ever brushing hers, a video clip of which she could only be the viewer.

The girl covered mechanically the road that got to her home, trying to regularize her breathing and hold back the hot tears that were pressing against her puffy eyelids, but as soon as she got home she collapsed on her bed and curled against Kumajiro, her stuffed polar bear, her body shaking with the sobs.

Maggie was aware that she was being unreasonable, overdramatic, yet she couldn’t stop: she had never wanted to move. She had never wanted to get in the way of Alyssa’s plans, and she was aware that she should just step aside: Alfred and the others were nice, but she didn’t belong with them. She _knew_ it. And in spite of that, she had almost allowed herself to hope… and now it hurt. It hurt so much, an icy hand squeezing out her lungs, her chest, and she couldn’t stop crying.

Maggie wouldn’t have been able to tell how long she had stayed in that position, she felt like centuries had passed, but it could have been merely a few minutes when she finally started taking deeper breaths and her tears slowed down.

Feeling more and more pathetic, Maggie slowly relaxed on the bed, then she dragged herself to a sitting position, still holding onto Kumajiro like an anchor.

Kumajiro was so big it still covered her whole torso, Maggie had had him her whole life. It must have been the result of one of Chloé’s motherly outbursts, the toy had been clearly expensive, seeing how its fur was still soft, even after so many years.

Kumajiro had been Maggie’s confidant and companion when she had been a child, too shy to approach the other children at the daycare, her guardian against all the evil things that moved in the dark of the night, he had dried off her tears each time her mother had been too busy to see her daughter’s insecurities. And he still did, faithful as only an unanimated object could be.

Maggie sank her face into the toy’s soft fur, trying to take regular breaths. If she focused hard enough, it was like she could still smell the detergent her mother had used to clean it, bringing to her mind her sharp laughter, her melodious voice as she would sing and twirl around while she did the laundry.

Sometimes, those moments seemed so far away that Maggie wondered whether they had really happened or were only a product of her imagination, she could hardly recall how her mother’s embrace had felt like. Sometimes, Maggie couldn’t remember what it was like not to be completely alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erika is Liechtenstein  
> Lukas is Norway  
> Emil is Iceland  
> Mikkel is Denmark  
> Maggie’s mother (Chloé Williams) is an OC
> 
> I suck at writing accents, and personally, I don’t even really like when they are used in fanfics, I find them distracting, so I won’t use them. I apologize if it makes it less realistic. The most I will do will be use some Italian from time to time, and maybe somebody else will say a word or two in their first language, but only if I’m sure it’s correct.
> 
> As I mentioned in the previous chapter, the reason I’m writing Maggie without glasses is that she plays hockey. Now, I don’t think that you can play hockey while wearing glasses, she would need contacts (simply not using glasses won’t work, it would hinder Maggie’s ability to see properly what’s going on). Contacts, however, are awfully expensive (I’m talking from personal experience), and while Steve does sometimes have some sparks of generosity he wouldn’t regularly spend so much for Maggie. So, for the sake of the plot for now she doesn’t need glasses. She’ll have to wear them by the time she turns 17, but it’s not even covered in this story.
> 
> If anybody is interested, the sauce in Feliciano’s pasta is pesto. It’s made with basil, parmesan, pine nuts and just a bit of garlic (but only a bit, otherwise the flavour is too strong), and it’s one of the few sauces that are fine also eaten cold. The ‘strangely shaped pasta’ is ‘strozzapreti’. It’s one of the formats that tastes best with pesto, but I digress.
> 
> This chapter and the following one were originally only one chapter, that I split because it was getting too long. Because of this, I will post next part in a week or so.  
> Please leave some feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I promised, the third chapter is here! I hope that somebody is interested…  
> Thanks to the people who left kudos/bookmarks, and a special thanks goes to those who commented!
> 
> No particular warnings this time, except for the fact that English is still not my first language. I hope you’ll enjoy this!

Maggie felt like an eternity has passed by the time she managed to stifle her sobs.

When her breath finally regained a regular pattern, she was feeling worn out and numb, her head was throbbing, and when she raised her eyes the girl who looked back from the mirror had a tired, pasty face that made her puffy eyes and red lips stand out even more.

Maggie wanted nothing more than curl up on the bed and sink into oblivion, but she knew that she couldn’t afford it. Using every inch of her will, she managed to drag herself to the bathroom and washed her face with cold water until the reflection on the mirror showed a girl that looked still worn out and pathetic, but not like she had just wept her heart out. Not the best, but a considerable improvement nonetheless.

_‘Stop thinking. Just… don’t think about anything. There are other things you need to do now, focus on that and stop thinking.’_

For a starter, Maggie absolutely needed to go buy some food, and then she would have to cook dinner, so she had better hurry. Steve was going to be tired after an entire day of work, at least an edible meal would improve his mood.

Trying to keep her mind on the most compelling issues, Maggie mechanically took some money from the drawer in the hall, put on her coat and finally got out, stubbornly ignoring a slight feeling of nausea that was starting to settle at the pit of her stomach.

The grocery store she was looking for (that was supposed to be the cheapest around) was about half an hour from her home, and Maggie usually wouldn’t have minded the walk - she liked walking, and even if the streets basked in the glow of the late afternoon sun weren’t even remotely comparable to Canadian woods it was still calming - but at that moment, she was finding it really difficult to pay any attention to her surroundings. Each step she took was like running a marathon, her legs felt weak and heavy, unsteady, her chest was tight.

To make matters worse, the nausea was steadily increasing, now the girl could feel the bile rise to the back of her throat, that was painfully dry. Maggie stopped walking, pressing a hand against her stomach as she forced herself to take a deep breath. It did nothing to quell the ill feeling, if anything, it was growing more and more intense with each passing moment.

_‘Oh, God… Would anybody notice if I threw up in a trash can?’_

They certainly would. And they would judge her harshly, too - Maggie could almost see that young mother who had just passed her shake her head, muttering through pursed lips about degenerate teens already drunk in the afternoon - but it didn’t look like there was any alternative.

The girl started looking around, trying to locate a trash can (possibly, not the one next to the ice-cream parlour, people  _ate_  there, she didn’t want to make anybody else sick…), a task that turned out to be surprisingly difficult, everything looked a bit hazy around her…

Only when a car passed a few inches from her, not making as much noise as it should have, Maggie finally registered the faint buzzing that had started dulling her hearing and realized what was actually happening.

_‘Oh maple…’_

When was the last time she had eaten? …The previous day? …earlier?

Maggie’s sluggish mind couldn’t recall it, but certainly, too much time had passed since then, and her body had already passed the stage where sitting down for a few moments would help.

_‘Sugar. I just need to get something with sugar.’_

The thought made her stomach flip, but Maggie knew that the nausea wasn’t real. She started heading towards the direction of the ice-cream parlour, gritting her teeth when her legs wobbled. She could manage it. She  _had_  to.

“Hey, Maggie?”

The girl halted and whirled around.

“Alfred?”

No, she hadn’t just imagined it. The boy was in front of her, much closer than his faint voice would have suggested, his blue eyes slightly widened and his eyebrows raised in surprise.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you around! Where are you going?” he asked curiously.

“Eh… I have to shop for groceries, but I saw the ice-cream shop and I just…”

Maggie wanted to find a believable excuse to tell Alfred, but her head was spinning, and her mind felt oddly muddled.

“Are you okay? Jesus, you’re as white as a sheet …”

Alfred’s voice was laced with concern, his blue eyes huge.

Maggie offered him a weak smile.

“Oh, yes, don’t worry, it’s just my natural complexion…”

Alfred didn’t look convinced, and right then Maggie swayed. The boy gasped, promptly grabbing the girl from her arms before she could fall.

“Maggie?!”

There was an edge of panic in Alfred’s voice, that sounded oddly like it was coming from far away, Maggie had to concentrate ridiculously hard to make out the boy’s words.

“I’m fine, just a dizzy spell…” she muttered automatically.

The ringing in her ears was getting louder. She tried to detach herself from Alfred, putting the weight back on her legs, but the world seemed to teeter on its axis at the movement.

“You need to sit down.”

Alfred’s voice held the cold calm of somebody trying to hide his panic.

The boy slid an arm around her waist and hooked his free hand under the girl’s elbow before leading her firmly somewhere - the tables? Maggie didn’t know, but Alfred seemed certain of the direction.

“It’s nothing, I’m fine…” the girl managed to whisper, desperately trying to hang to the last thread of consciousness.

Her field of vision looked like a blurred photocopy, completely filled with black spots and blurred edges, and the ringing in her ears had grown to a roar, swallowing all the other sounds. Alfred was talking urgently, Maggie could recognize his voice, but she couldn’t understand what he was saying. Other voices joined his, a kaleidoscope of sounds she wasn’t able to decipher, as the ground tilted and her body swayed.

Maggie was drowning, she couldn’t understand what was going on anymore - she couldn’t feel her feet, she didn’t know where she, not even if she was standing upright or not. The only certainty she had was Alfred, his warm and strong body felt firm and solid against her, his steady hold the only thing that kept Maggie anchored to reality.

The girl vaguely recognized a second pair of hands grabbing her legs, and along with Alfred’s they laid her down on a hard horizontal surface.

Somebody grabbed her ankles, raising her legs.

Maggie wanted to move away, but she couldn’t summon enough strength to shift her leaden limbs, so she stayed still.

Little by little, the ringing in her ears died down, and the girl started regaining awareness of her surroundings.

She was lying on a wooden bench, she could feel the boards under her back, and somebody was gently patting her cheek, talking softly.

“Can you hear me? Are you with us?”

It was a man with a strong British accent. His smooth voice sounded familiar, but Maggie couldn’t remember when she had heard it before. The hand didn’t belong to Alfred, it felt rougher, but slightly smaller than the boy’s one, and the touch was more delicate.

With a greater effort than she would have thought, the girl managed to pry her eyes open.

_(When did she even close them? She couldn’t remember.)_

Gradually, the confused mixture of colours in front of her eyes cleared up, outlining the face of a stranger leaning over her.

The man looked in his thirties, and his pale face, with a pointy chin and delicate features, was framed by short wheat-blond hair, straight but messy. A pair of slightly slanted eyes of a bright lime green were topped by the most impressive pair of eyebrows Maggie had ever seen. They were so huge and fuzzy they could almost be mistaken for fat, golden caterpillars, the girl found herself completely transfixed by them.

The man’s furrowed forehead relaxed slightly.

“Everything’s alright.” he said gently, “How are you feeling?”

“Maggie?” echoed Alfred’s voice. He sounded scared.

Letting her eyes wander, Maggie realized the boy was the person keeping her legs raised. Alfred’s eyes looked huge behind the glasses, and his face was paler than she remembered.

For a moment Maggie stared at him, trying to understand what was going on, then everything came back with enough force to leave her out of breath.

The girl opened her eyes wide, a strangled gasp bubbling up her throat as she tried to sit up, but the British man held her down by her shoulders. While his touch was gentle, it was firm enough to leave Maggie unable to move.

“Take it easy, you shouldn’t try to get up yet.” The man was saying, but Maggie barely registered it.

Had she had the power to make the earth open under her feet and swallow her,  _that_  would have been the moment to use it.

“I’m sorry!” the girl found herself squealing, “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“Maggie!” Alfred’s exclamation stopped her. His eyes were wide with relief, he took a deep breath before he went on talking. “Thank God you are awake, you collapsed on me and I didn’t know what to do, you have no idea of how worried I was!”

“Alfred!” the blond man said brusquely, “Let her breathe for a moment, she needs to recover.”

For a second time, Maggie ignored him, her mind unable to focus on anything past the gut-wrenching knowledge of how much she had  _troubled Alfred_.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered in a trembling voice, “I’m so sorry, I really am, I didn’t mean to make you worry…”

“This is not the point! Jesus, you… you almost passed out! What if you had been alone? You could have hit your head, you could have gotten seriously hurt! Why didn’t you eat anything at lunch?!”

Unable to hold Alfred’s fierce gaze, Maggie let her eyes wander to the sky.

“I’m sorry…” she whispered again, feeling the tears pool at the corners of her eyes.

Alfred was right, she had been so utterly  _stupid_. She  _knew_  that she had to eat even if she wasn’t hungry, she should have taken some money in the morning and stopped to get something along the street… she couldn’t afford to faint around, she had been incredibly lucky that Alfred had been there. What if somebody had called an ambulance? Steve wouldn’t have been happy…

“Alfred! Calm. Down.”

The British man was addressing the boy as if he knew him well, he clearly wasn’t just a helpful passer-by.

“Maggie, right?”

The girl started and brought her eyes back to the man, nodding.

The stranger offered her a reassuring smile. When he talked, his voice was once again gentle.

“It’s alright. Are you feeling any better?”

Maggie nodded again, not trusting her voice.

Following a gesture of the man, Alfred gently lowered her legs on the bench she was lying on, but when Maggie tried for a second time to get up the man stopped her again.

“Just lie down for a bit. Try to relax, now. Alfred, get her an ice cream, if her blood sugar is low it will help.”

“Dad…” Alfred muttered, but the man interrupted him with a sharp wave of his hand, and after a last concerned glance at Maggie the boy walked away.

_Ah, it’s his father. This makes sense._

Maggie studied the man in front of her. She couldn’t have guessed his relationship to Alfred from his look alone, they didn’t have much in common. Even if he was wearing a trench coat, Maggie could see that the man was a completely different body type from Alfred, shorter and slighter. His skin was fair, a tone much closer to Maggie’s own than Alfred’s golden tan, and his facial features were completely different from Alfred’s - except for the eye-shape, maybe. Yes, Alfred had something of his father in his eyes, but that wasn’t was Maggie should be worrying about at that moment.

“I’m really sorry for bothering you,” the girl managed to say after a few moments of silence. “I truly am. I didn’t mean to…”

The man offered her a small, kind smile.

“You don’t have to apologize, I can guarantee you that it’s no bother. And you don’t have to justify yourself, either, I highly doubt that anybody would faint on purpose.”

Having failed to detect any hint of reproach in his voice, Maggie hesitantly smiled back.

After a few minutes, the girl decided that she was well enough to sit up, and this time Alfred’s father, instead of restraining her, helped her with gentle, steadying hands.

For a moment, Maggie’s head span. Her hands immediately grasped the wooden seat to steady herself as she waited for the world to settle.

“How are you feeling, poppet?” asked Alfred’s father.

“Better.”

Maggie offered him a weak smile. She still felt quite faint, and she wasn’t sure that she would be strong enough to stand up, but at least the nausea had quelled down.

Not long later Alfred came back, holding a huge cup filled with ice-cream. His face lit up when his eyes landed on Maggie’s sitting form.

“I hope you like chocolate, but everybody likes chocolate, right?” the boy asked as he handed her the cup.

Maggie hesitantly took a spoonful. The strong flavour of chocolate filled her mouth, accompanied by the startling realization that she was  _starving_. A few spoonsful followed the first one before Maggie remembered that she wasn’t alone.

“Thank you.” She muttered, looking at Alfred and his father.

“Better?” asked the man, whose brow was still knitted with concern.

Maggie nodded.

“It must have really been just low blood sugar, then.” Alfred’s father sighed, his features finally relaxing. “Well, better this than something more serious…”

Once again, Maggie wanted nothing more than being swallowed by the ground.

“I’m really sorry.” She whispered for the umpteenth time, feeling her stomach twist. “I’m sorry I bothered you. I…”

She shrugged and forced herself to keep her head high. Her eyes met Alfred’s still concerned ones.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t  _mean_  not to eat, I just… I don’t know, I’ve had so much to do the past days, we moved and there was everything to unpack, the house to clean, then I had to do all the paperwork for the school and I… now that I think about it I’ve been eating very little lately, but I didn’t even realize it, I wasn’t hungry…”

Maggie swallowed, clenching her fists as she used every inch of her will to keep eye-contact with Alfred.

“I didn’t do it on purpose, really, I simply wasn’t hungry… I would have never thought I was going to faint, I didn’t think I was eating so little…”

For once, it was completely true, and utterly  _embarrassing_ , now that she thought about it. It had been a long time since she had lost control of the situation that way, she should know better…

Alfred’s father nodded, his brow slightly creased as he looked at Maggie with an unexpected knowingly expression - it was almost as if he could understand perfectly what was going on. Maggie hadn’t been expecting that, nor was she anticipating Alfred’s reaction.

“Maggie, I’m so sorry!” the boy blurted out, his eyes wide with genuine regret. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, really! I just wanted to make you feel welcome…Tolys and Kiku told me I was being too overbearing, that you’re shy and I should have been more considerate, and Ludwig too, but I didn’t think you were  _that_ uncomfortable, I swear! Sorry! I know I’m too loud sometimes, but I really really didn’t mean to…”

Alfred interrupted his lament, but he never stopped looking at Maggie with his huge, expressive eyes.

“Amen to that.” His father said dryly, shaking his head.

Maggie had been so taken aback by the outburst that she needed a few moments to realize she was supposed to answer.

“Y-you don’t have to apologize” she managed to say in the end, accompanying her words with a slight shake of her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s not your fault… actually, you’ve been really nice to me.”

Alfred’s eyes lit up, his features relaxing until he was beaming again. The sight conjured in Maggie’s mind the odd picture of an overeager puppy.

“Are you sure? Seriously, until Tolys and Kiku told me I hadn’t thought a shy person would be stressed by being around so many people…I shouldn’t have dragged you around like that…”

Maggie realized that a small smile was tugging at the corners of her lips.

“Don’t worry, it wasn’t what stressed me out… I’m not lying, you have all been incredibly nice to me. And I’m sorry if I didn’t let it show, that’s because I’m not used to being at the centre of attention, but I do appreciate what you did, I really do, I’m just… Not so good with people…”

That was the understatement of the century, but it seemed to be enough for Alfred, whose smile didn’t fade.

His father snorted.

“You’re being too nice. It’s high time for him to realize not everybody is completely lacking in social inhibitions, he can’t just drag people around as he wants.”

“Dad…” whined Alfred, pouting.

In spite of the reproach, there was a glint of tenderness in the man’s eyes, and his stern expression was ruined by the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

He ignored Alfred’s complaint, addressing Maggie.                                     

“Anyway, you should finish that ice cream, you clearly need it.”

Aware of being observed, Maggie hurried to do as she was told.

“Thank you, I feel a lot better now.”  She said as soon as she had swallowed the last spoonful, setting down the empty cup.

It wasn’t a lie, she wasn’t feeling light-headed or nauseous anymore, nor as exhausted. The girl made a mental note to not only be more careful about not getting so close to fainting, but try to eat any time she could to get at least close to a regular caloric intake: she had almost forgotten how much better she felt after eating…

“How much was it?” she asked, rummaging through her bag in search of the wallet.

“Don’t even think about it, it would be so not heroic to let you pay!” Alfred answered immediately, grabbing her arm.

Maggie shook her head.

“Oh, no, I have some money with me, you’ve already done so much…”

“Alfred is right, it’s on me.” Guaranteed the boy’s father.

Maggie opened her mouth to reply, but the man was quicker.

“You really don’t have to worry about it, it was just some ice cream, it’s not a problem at all. If it makes you feel better, consider it something like a tip, since apparently, you are the only thing that can make Alfred get to school on time…”

“Dad!”

Accepting such an act of kindness from a man she had already caused so much disturbance to made Maggie’s stomach churn with guilt, but his firm voice didn’t leave any edge for bargaining.

Blushing, she nodded.                                                                                                                                             

“Then… thank you very much, Mr Jones, you really didn’t need to…”

Alfred laughed.

“Whoa, calm down! It was just an ice cream! I know I’m the Hero, but you don’t really need to call me ‘Mr Jones’ for this!”

Maggie frowned, confused.

“Err, actually…”

“My surname isn’t Jones,” cut in Alfred’s father, his words accompanied by a slight grimace. “It’s Kirkland. I’m sorry, we haven’t been properly introduced, have we? Arthur Kirkland, it’s nice to meet you.”

Arthur Kirkland held out his hand to her, but the girl didn’t take it. She could only keep gaping at the man, frozen.

Now she  _did_  remember where she had heard his voice before.

“You are  _that_ Arthur Kirkland?!” she squealed in the end, too shocked to even think about shaking his hand.

_How could I take so much time to recognize his voice?_

In spite of having heard it only once before, on the radio, Maggie would never be able to forget it.

She had stumbled upon that broadcast by chance, while she was zapping. She had stopped to listen because she had immediately recognized the text, she had read that book so many times that she almost knew it by heart, and something about it automatically interested her. She had spent the next minutes in silence, mesmerized by the voice of the reader. Maggie had never heard something like that. The reading was captivating and dramatic, the man stopped just at the right times, modulated his voice in tune with the emotions conveyed by the book, enhancing them in a way that managed to be at the same time moving and haunting, leaking into the depths of her being. Only when the reading had stopped, and Maggie had realized her face was soaked in tears, she had found out that the reader was the author of the book himself, Arthur Kirkland.

Arthur Kirkland wrote mostly fantasy books addressed to teens and children. He wasn’t particularly famous, he rarely left interviews and showed himself in public even less, and his books were among Maggie’s favourite ones. She had read some of them when she was still in grade school, and she kept doing that even now that she was older. They were nice books, with convoluted plots and likeable, real characters, and even if Maggie had heard people complaining about how the main characters always growing up into positive models was unrealistic she didn’t agree with that opinion, it was refreshing to read books like that. Not to mention how entertaining and original the plot always was. Maggie had instantly taken a liking to Arthur Kirkland’s style. Then she had read  _Crumbles of Stars_. It was completely different from Kirkland’s usual books. It was shorter, for a starter, and the plot more linear, but it was a story so deep and delicate, painful and at the same time full of hope, that it never failed to move Maggie to tears. And at the same time, every time she read it Maggie felt somehow better, as if lighter. It was her favourite book, and since then she had made a point to read each of Arthur Kirkland’s works.

And now, her favourite writer was right in front of her - correction: she had basically  _passed out on him_ \- and she didn’t have the slightest idea of what to say.

Arthur’s bushy eyebrows furrowed.

“Yes, I suppose that would be me.” he answered, unable to hide a hint of surprise from his voice.

Alfred was looking at her quizzically, as if he hadn’t grasped what had just happened.

“Oh my God I love your books.” Maggie blurted out, without taking a breath, before she could think of something else.

Immediately she felt her face heat up as her hands went to cover her mouth.

“Oh!” Alfred sounded surprised. “Did you read Dad’s books?”

Maggie could only nod, too embarrassed to add anything else. She probably would have thrown up if she had opened her mouth anyway, her insides were twisting and churning,

“Well, that’s certainly nice to hear. Thank you.” Arthur answered. A faint blush blossomed over his cheeks, but his lips were barely curved in what looked like a smug smile.

Maggie couldn’t meet his eyes.

_What’s the policy when you meet the author of the books you have been illegally downloading for the last three years?_

In her defence, Maggie would have never resorted to downloading books if she had had enough money or other legal means to get them. She would have loved to just go to the library, had Steve not been so reluctant to let her out alone. Maggie couldn’t blame him for that, but it didn’t change the outcome: there was no way she could have enough books to read. Because of that, using all the money she had earned doing little jobs for the neighbours, Maggie had bought an e-reader. It might have been  _(it most likely had been)_ a stupid decision, she should have saved that money for something more important, but in spite of that Maggie couldn’t bring herself to regret it. An e-reader gave her access to an unlimited number of free books, and for how selfish it was Maggie was aware that the escape provided by reading was the only thing that kept her relatively sane.

Which did nothing to improve the embarrassing situation, however.

_And now that I think about it, why does Alfred have a different surname?_

Kirkland could have been a pseudonym, but she deemed it improbable since Arthur had introduced himself using that surname.

Not that Maggie would have ever dared to ask such a personal question.

An awkward silence had enveloped the three of them. Maggie wanted to break it, but she didn’t have a single clue of how to do it without sounding like a complete idiot.

Luckily, she had underestimated Alfred’s inability to read the atmosphere.

“Oh, I bet you are wondering why we have a different surname!” said the boy, his face lighting up as he looked at her expectantly.

 _‘Yes, I’m dying to know it…’_ Maggie would have liked to say. Arthur might be only Alfred’s stepfather, just like Steve, but they were very relaxed around each other, which seemed to point at Arthur being Alfred’s natural father. Maybe he and Alfred’s mother hadn’t been married when Alfred had been born, Arthur looked quite young – around the age Chloé would have been, most likely.

 _‘No, don’t worry about it, you don’t have to tell me anything,’_ the rational and polite part of Maggie’s brain wanted to answer. For how curious she could be, it. Wasn’t. Her. Business.

However, she didn’t have to choose either option, because Arthur was the one who started talking, not before giving Alfred a dirty look.

“That’s… actually quite complicated.” He said gravely, “My wife and I decided to let Alfred have her surname for… several reasons.”

Maggie simply nodded. Arthur’s expression was stony, letting her understand that the subject wouldn’t be delved into any further, yet his vivid, piercing eyes betrayed some clearly powerful emotions. Then there had been that slight catch in his voice when he had mentioned Alfred’s mother… Maggie’s eyes widened at the realization, her stomach plummeting.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” She said in a whisper. Her chest felt tight, she never knew what to say in those situations… but she felt like she owed Arthur something. And the thought of Alfred going through something so horrible, in spite of his bright personality…

Arthur took a sharp breath.

“How…?”

Maggie raised her head to see both males looking at her with a quizzical expression. She unconsciously bit her lower lip, her stomach coiling.

_‘God this was so stupid… Why can’t I keep my mouth shut?’_

It wasn’t such a clear conclusion, the fact that Arthur’s wife was dead wasn’t actually mentioned anywhere that Maggie knew of. Yet it had looked so clear for her, who had gone through a similar experience… and now she had to explain it, at least.

“ _Crumbles of Stars._ ” She said, her voice trembling. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude, I just thought… I mean, that dedication…”

Arthur still looked surprised, but he nodded.

Maggie swallowed. She really didn’t want to go on, and yet she had to, she had landed herself in that situation.

“That book… I read it just after my mother died. It was… it really helped me a lot.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, and a soon as the words went past her lips she regretted them, but she felt like she had to give Arthur something in exchange for that part of his private life he had unwillingly shared with her.

The man nodded again. His eyes looked glazed, as if he were looking at something far away, the faint echo of a memory.

“I wrote it for Alfred.” He said weakly.

He didn’t elaborate, but Maggie understood. To tell him about his mother’s death, to help him understand, maybe so that Arthur himself could elaborate his loss. And it had helped Maggie, as well, and with her probably countless other people.

“I’m sorry for your mother.” Offered Arthur, in a soft voice.

Maggie managed to address him a faint smile.

“This thing his getting seriously depressing.” Alfred pointed out bluntly, and before Maggie had time to open her mouth and apologize to him, as well, he went on. “And you don’t need to apologize, really, I was the one who brought this up and I can say I’m fairly sure you weren’t involved in Mom’s death. Aand you don’t have to be sorry, really, Dad is an old grumpy man, but he’s my old grumpy old man, so I’m fine, you know?”

Alfred took a breath.

“I’m sorry for your mother, though.” He said in a lower tone, his face suddenly soberer.

Maggie cracked a weak smile.

“It’s not your fault?” she said hesitantly, and was rewarded with the boy’s sharp laugh.

Arthur sighed and shook his head, but he didn’t look as tense as before.

Maggie brought her attention back to Alfred, tilting her head. It was incredible how he had managed to diffuse a situation like that… even more knowing what he had been through. His mother’s death couldn’t have left him unscathed, yet he still managed to be such a positive and bright person… that was truly remarkable, in Maggie’s book. It was clear that there was a lot more to Alfred than simply a friendly, chatty boy, but at the same time, his positive disposition didn’t seem faked.

“You know what?” Alfred said loudly, “You can officially join the club!”

“Alfred!” Arthur scolded him immediately, but went completely ignored.

“Club?”

“Ok, there isn’t actually a club” Alfred admitted sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, sometimes we say it, but it’s mainly a joke… it’s just that, you see, we’re all orphans!”

“Oh…” whispered Maggie, unsure of how she was supposed to take the news. She didn’t know who was involved in the ‘everybody’ Alfred was talking about, and it certainly didn’t sound like something positive, but the boy was smiling.

“Ok, it’s not actually everybody… just me, Ludwig, Feli and his brother, Kiku, Erika, and even Natalya and Ivan…  well, kind of. But the thing is… we basically are friends because we are orphans!”

Without stopping to take a breath, Alfred launched himself into a complicated explanation of everybody’s family situation and how it had influenced their friendship.

From what Maggie was able to understand, after his wife’s death, Arthur had come to rely heavily on the same Francis Alfred had already mentioned, and Francis’s friend had been involved too - in particular, a man named Gilbert and a married couple, Antonio and Laura.  The two had later adopted Lovino, Feliciano’s older brother, and given their guardians’ closeness he and Alfred had started spending a lot of time together. Sometime after being adopted, Lovino had revealed having a younger brother from whom he had been separated at the orphanage, and Antonio and Laura had immediately started looking for him. When they had finally had news of him, they had learnt he had been adopted by a young couple, Roderich and Erzsébet. Erzsébet had turned out to be a childhood friend of Gilbert’s. As soon as they had learnt the situation, Roderich and Erzsébet had decided to move to allow Feliciano and Lovino to grow up together, and because of that Alfred and the younger Vargas brother had become fast friends.

A few years later Gilbert had found himself taking care of his much younger half-brother, Ludwig, after their parents’ sudden death. At first cold and introverted, Ludwig had ended up warming up to the other children thanks to Feliciano’s constant attention.

Erika was the step-sister of a childhood friend of Roderich’s. When her parents had died and the young man had been given custody of her he had accepted, albeit reluctantly, Roderich’s help, and Erika had joined the small group of children.

Kiku lived with his older cousin, Yao, and the two had moved there during his first year of high school. Due to his similar position, Yao had gotten to know the other parents, and consequently Kiku, in spite of being shy and distant, had ended up spending his time with Alfred and the others.

Natalya and Ivan lived with their older sister, Iryna, and had moved to the US as soon as the girl had turned of age. Alfred was quite sure that at least one of their parents and some other adult relatives were still alive, but since they were still in Russia Ivan and Natalya were basically considered honorary members of the club.

When Alfred finally stopped talking, Maggie needed a few moments to elaborate the load of information that had been poured out of his mouth, and even when she did she didn’t have the slightest idea of how to react.

Luckily, Arthur decided that it was time for an intervention.

“I’m sorry about this, he never knows when it would be time to shut his trap.” He said, looking at his son with a slightly downhearted expression. “Alfred, do you really think it was truly necessary to say all that?”

“Did I do something wrong?” the boy looked genuinely confused, his eyebrows raised. “I only wanted to explain everything to Maggie… to make her feel included, you know?”

Arthur ran a hand through his already unruly hair, sighing.

“What happened to ‘Not make Maggie uncomfortable with my hyper behaviour’?”

“Oh…” Alfred lowered slightly his head, sheepishly. “Uhm… I’m sorry, I hadn’t thought…”

“It doesn’t matter,” interjected Maggie. She didn’t like to see Alfred uneasy. “It’s just… a lot to grasp? I would have never thought that…”

She stopped.

Seriously, what was she supposed to say? Being orphans sounded tragic, but Alfred had talked about it like it was a common occurrence, like he and everybody else were actually  _happy_ , in spite of their natural parents’ absence.

And maybe they were, Maggie realized suddenly. Maybe they lived with people that loved them and cared for them, and even if their parents were dead, they were living good lives.

It was quite a foreign concept to grasp.

Not that Steve didn’t care for her, at least a bit, but when her mother had been alive everything had been different, happier. And yes, right now it was a particularly hard time, but Maggie doubted things could ever get much better, and surely nothing would ever return to the previous light-heartedness.

Clearly, it wasn’t like that for everybody. And Alfred  _did_  look happy, and comfortable enough to joke about something so serious. Of course, he still had one living relative so it wasn’t exactly the same, but his outlook on the situation was truly inspiring.

“Hey, I have an idea!” the boy exclaimed, diverting Maggie from her thoughts. “You should introduce your dad to my dad and the others! I’m sure he would like them, somebody is a bit odd but they are all good people!”

Maggie had to steady herself against the bench.

_Calm down, Maggie, take a deep breath…_

A nervous giggle seeped through her lips.

“Eh… it’s really nice of you, but I don’t really think it would be a good idea… you know, Steve is working a lot these days, he doesn’t have much free time, and he’s such an introvert… I don’t really think he’d like to meet more people, at least for now. He already has to get used to his new co-workers…”

Internally, Maggie was panicking, an icy grip threatened to close off her throat, but neither Alfred nor Arthur seemed to notice.

“Oh, what a pity…” the boy sighed, shaking his head. “Hey, why do you call him by his name?”

Arthur made a choking sound.

“Alfred!”

Maggie lowered her eyes and started playing with her tunic’s hem, trying to pay attention to anything but Alfred’s expression. She had been hoping to avoid that question, but Alfred wasn’t stupid.

“Well, you see… actually, Steve is my  _step-_ father. He got married to Mama when I was ten, and… actually, I don’t even know why I call him by his name, I guess there isn’t a real reason, I just… I don’t know, ‘Dad’ sounds so weird, it never occurred to me to use it with Steve…”

“Oh…” whispered Alfred, “What happened to your real dad?”

“Alfred! Why can’t you  _think_ before talking, for God’s sake!” rebuked Arthur, who had recovered from the shock. “You can’t just ask… Maggie, I’m sorry. I don’t really know how to apologize, you don’t have to answer…”

“No, it’s all right.” Said Maggie.

The girl took a deep breath to steady herself. It wasn’t something she enjoyed talking about, but Alfred had told her everything without prompting, so the least she could do was to reciprocate as much as she could.

“I’ve never met my natural father. Actually, I don’t know who he is, I don’t even know his name, Mama met him when she was in college, at a party at the end of her exchange period in France… there was a lot of alcohol around, they drank too much, and well…”

The girl stopped to take a breath, trying to ponder carefully the following words.

Alfred’s eyes were wide with astonishment, but for once he didn’t say anything. Arthur’s eyebrows were knitted over his sharp eyes in a way that looked almost painful.

“Sometime after that, when she was back in Canada, Mama realized she was pregnant. She chose to keep me, but she never tried to contact my father…”

“That not fair!” Alfred cut in unexpectedly, startling Maggie. His voice was trembling with outrage, and his hands were clenched into fists. “How could she do that?! Why didn’t she tell him anything?! You are his daughter, too, he deserved to know!”

“Alfred!” Arthur, reprimanded the boy, giving a light squeeze to his shoulder.

Maggie shook her head. She couldn’t take her eyes off Alfred, his vehemence certainly wasn’t the reaction she had been expecting… nor could she understand it. Yet, for some reason, it wasn’t completely unpleasant.

“It was just a party, they only wanted to have fun.” She whispered, “I seriously doubt he would have been glad to raise a child, whoever he may be.”

_Not a child like me, especially._

Alfred took a deep breath as if about to say something more, but Maggie preceded him.

“And they were both completely wasted, anyway. Mama didn’t even know his name… she only vaguely remembered how he looked like, and that he spoke French with a flawless accent.”

Actually, those weren’t the only things Chloé had told her, but Maggie wasn’t ever going to tell the rest, not even under torture. She could still feel her face heating up whenever she thought about it. Knowing how pleasant that single night with her father had been, and that it was such a satisfying experience that no price - becoming a single mother at the age of twenty-one included - was too high to pay wasn’t something a ten-years-old liked to know, and after four years Maggie still liked to pretend that conversation had never happened.

An awkward silence had fallen after her last words.

“You know,” Alfred said in the end, “Dad got Mom pregnant before getting married, too.”

“Alfred!” Arthur’s exasperated scowl was truly impressive. “Who told you that?!”

Alfred’s lips curved into a mischievous grin, his eyes glittering.

“Daad… I’m not stupid, you know… I know my math. Mom doesn’t look pregnant in the picture, but I was born five months after you got married, so…”

Maggie found herself frozen, the breath caught in her lungs. The way Alfred had addressed Arthur was truly outrageous, he was surely going to be punished, Maggie had no idea of what Steve would do for something like that…

His features creased in annoyance, Arthur opened his mouth to talk. Maggie clenched her fists, trying to prepare herself for the insults… but that didn’t happen.

“You… cheeky kid.” Arthur huffed, shaking his head.

The tension left Maggie so abruptly that she felt her head spinning.

_‘Of course, what was I thinking…’_

Alfred might have been a bit too blunt, but he was a good person. And he was clearly close to his father, he wasn’t going to get yelled at…

Diverting her eyes from both of them to try to compose herself, Maggie let her gaze wander around her. Alfred had led her to a bench not far from the ice-cream parlour, she could see the front of the building and some of the tables in front of it, occupied by a group of slightly older teens and some mothers with their children. A clock placed right over the sign caught her eyes.

Maggie gasped, brought violently back to reality.

“It’s so late!”

Her terrified exclamation stirred both Alfred and Arthur, leading them to take a quizzical look over their shoulders before realizing the time.

“Wow, I thought it was way earlier!” commented Alfred.

“I’m sorry, but I really have to go now!” said Maggie, jerking up.

Both Alfred and Arthur instinctively stretched out their arms towards her, as if worried that she might faint again, but Maggie was feeling a lot better after eating.

“Thank you so much for everything.” she said, “Really, I don’t know how to thank you, but I have to go now…”

“I parked nearby, I’ll drive you home.” Arthur cut her off.

His tone didn’t leave space for any reply, but Maggie had no intention of accepting, not after how much troubles she had already caused him.

“That’s very kind of you, but there’s no need for it, and I have to go shopping anyway, we basically don’t have any food left at home.”

“Then we can go with you to the store.” Decided Alfred, “I don’t think we have much food left at home, either… I finished the cereals this morning, and I don’t think we have much milk left.”

“Yes, you are right.” Arthur murmured, furrowing his forehead. “I was thinking of going tomorrow and get pizza for dinner, but we can buy something now…”

Maggie hesitated.

She didn’t want to take advantage of their kindness any more, but it was late, and going by car would save her a lot of time she could use to cook something for Steve…

“Ah, then, if it’s really not a problem, thank you very much…” she opted for answering.

Alfred’s bright smile that followed her words made her think it hadn’t been the wrong decision.

Those moments spent crying over the fact he might completely forget about her looked so stupid right then…

* * *

 

Steve flopped down on the chair, grunting. The day had clearly been stressful for him, judging from the two beers he had already downed, but he wasn’t completely drunk yet.

With trembling hands, Maggie hurried to fill his plate with roast and potatoes.

Without raising his head, the man took a forkful of meat and brought it to his mouth.

Maggie stood still, her eyes trained on her step-father as he chewed slowly for a time that seemed to expand for centuries, then finally swallowed.

“It’s good.” Ha said in the end, raising his eyes on the girl.

Maggie lowered her head as she felt her cheeks heating up. Steve must have been on a particularly good mood, a compliment from him was something more unique than rare, even when he was sober.

The man’s voice diverted her from her thoughts.

“Why are you still standing? Sit down, eat something.”

Maggie hurriedly obeyed, incredulous. She couldn’t remember the last time her step-father had been so well-disposed while not completely sober.

Deciding that tempting the fate wouldn’t have been wise, the girl placed in her plate the slimmest slice of beef and a few potatoes that she immediately started cutting in small pieces.

“So, how is school going?” Steve asked, with his mouth full.

“It’s alright.” Maggie reassured him, “I think I have good teachers, and…”

“Do you do your homework?”

“O-of course.” She stammered.

“Good.” was the single, sharp answer. “It’s the least you can do, with all the money I spend on your education… you know what I think of all those brats who don’t even do what they should.”

Said that, Steve considered the conversation ended and concentrated again on the food on his plate, completely ignoring the girl sitting in front of him.

Maggie tried to bite on a piece of meat, but she was too nervous to eat, it felt like cardboard.

_I have to do this sooner or later, better do it now that he’s in a good mood._

She caressed the idea of waiting until Steve was completely sober, but given the last weeks it might take a while, and Maggie couldn’t afford it.

“I-I need to ask you something.” She whispered.

Steve slammed the fork on the table with much more force than necessary, making the glass tingle.

“Speak a little louder, for fuck’s sake, I’m not a mind-reader! What the fuck is that you want now?”

Maggie took a deep breath.

“There’s a hockey team in the new school. Might I try the selections?”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Steve slowly finished chewing the bite in his mouth, then took the glass to his lips and swallowed a long sip of beer.

Maggie kept staring at the big, rough hand as it placed the glass back on the table.

Steve took a deep breath.

“You used to play hockey in your old school, didn’t you? I don’t fucking understand what a girl can see in such a rough sport, but at this point…” the man shook his head. “Do the fuck you want, it’s not like you are beyond repair anyway. Fuck! I could understand the hellhole we were before, but I would have never thought to find so many man-girls to form a hockey team here!”

Maggie’s heart missed a beat.

For a moment she caressed the idea to avoid specifying, but she was painfully aware of what would happen if Steve found out about her deception.

“A-actually it’s a mixed team.” She informed him, her voice barely above a whisper.

Steve froze with his fork mid-air.

Slowly, he raised his head, and his brown eyes focused on Maggie.

The girl held her breath.

With carefully pondered movements, Steve laid the fork on the plate and wiped his hands on the napkin, never moving his eyes away from Maggie.

“Well,” he said in the end, articulating slowly each word. “I guess I should have been expecting this… it’s not easy, to raise a little brat like you alone… you have always been such a subdued, mousy little thing, but finally, you reveal your true nature, don’t you?”

The man exhaled deeply.

“You know what I say? Fuck that, alright! But listen carefully, because there won’t be a second warning: if I get any rumour - and believe me when I say I’m going to know - that my step-daughter is whoring around with her teammates, it won’t end happily for you. If you let any of them touch you - a kiss, a grope, you can even let them shag you, I don’t care what - you can start praying, because I’m making you regret taking a single fucking breath in this world, is it clear?!”

Steve gave emphasis to his words by slamming his fists on the table.

Maggie gasped and nodded quickly, her heart hammering in her chest, her muscles stiff with tension.

Steve took back his fork and started eating ravenously.

Maggie waited for a few minutes, but the man seemed to have forgotten about her.

Almost dizzy with relief, the girl slumped against the chair.

_Wow, that went so much better than I had thought…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Laura is Belgium  
> Iryna is Ukraine.
> 
> So now you see why Maggie was so emotional last chapter: people with low sugar blood levels are prone to mood swings and being overdramatic - I’ve been told that it feels like PMS. And Maggie had eaten only an apple since dinner of two days before, so…  
> About Arthur, instead, I hope that you liked my career choice for him. I don’t know, he strikes me as somebody who could be a writer. The book mentioned is not a real one, as far as I know, I just randomly made up a title.
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading this! Next chapter will come in a few weeks since I also want to work at another story. Please, please leave a review!
> 
>  **EDIT!** As I did with Lithuania, I have changed Hungary's name to its more accurate version, Erzsébet, since the most accepted fanon version (probably result of an inaccurate transliteration from Katakana) isn't actually a real Hungarian name. I wrote a more detailed post about it on tumblr [[x](https://feyna-v.tumblr.com/post/171013874995/hetalia-human-names-and-accuracy)], if anybody is interested. It's not actually a big deal, but I wanted to warn you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit earlier than I had planned. Thanks a lot for the comments, it means the world to me. 
> 
> No particular warnings except for the fact that English isn't my first language... and that the plot is going so extremely slowly. I'm sorry about this, it's just the way I write I guess.

Lilac eyes carefully lingered on each word written on the notebook as Maggie sat silently at her desk, giving a final check to her English homework. So far, she hadn’t spotted any mistake.

It was the second period, and Alfred, Feliks and Tolys had a different class, leaving her virtually alone. Some of the other teens were chattering as they waited for the teacher to arrive, but hardly anybody had even spared a glance at Maggie.

One of Alyssa’s friends (‘ _lapdogs_ ’, Maggie’s mind corrected automatically), the redhead from the previous day, had almost tripped Maggie as she was getting to her desk. From the barely concealed giggles that had followed, Maggie had gathered that it had been on purpose, but at that moment the red-headed lackey and the other girls were ignoring her. It was better that way.

A bag was dropped on the desk at Maggie’s right.

The girl raised her head from the notebook, ready to greet the one she supposed to be Natalya, but she found herself frozen in the motion.

The girl who had put down the bag _was_ Natalya, engulfed in an air of cold indifference, but she wasn’t alone. Standing at her side was a boy Maggie had never seen before, who looked too old to be a sophomore.

To put it simply, the stranger was _huge_. Maggie had thought Ludwig’s size to be impressive, but the sight in front of her proved her wrong. The boy had to be several centimetres taller than Ludwig, and even if his sweater was loose-fitting and partially covered by a long, massive scarf it didn’t hide his broad shoulders, suggesting a muscular body. In a contrast that looked almost unsettling, the boy’s face was round and chubby, dominated by a big nose and deep violet eyes. He had an extremely fair complexion, and the straight, slightly shaggy hair that framed his head and covered his forehead in a messy side-fringe was a pale silvery blond that bordered on white. His full lips were curled in a smile that on anybody’s face would have looked innocent, but for some reason gave him a creepily threatening air.

“Marguerite Williams, da?” he asked affably. His voice had an unexpected high timbre, it sounded almost childish, out of place with his impressive physique and strong Russian accent.

“Can I call you Maggie?”

The boy’s smile widened at the girl’s wordless nod.

“Good! Ivan Braginsky.” He said, holding out his hand.

Maggie took it, her stomach knotting. Ivan’s finger closed around her slim hand and squeezed it in an iron grip, she could almost feel her bones grating against each other.

“N-nice to meet you.” Maggie muttered, ill at ease.

Finally, Ivan released her hand, the smile never slipping from his face. Maggie had to conceal a pained grimace, but she didn’t think that the boy had meant to hurt her.

“Natasha told me you’d like to play in the hockey team, am I right?”

Ivan hadn’t stopped smiling, but there was a glint of curiosity in his eyes as they carefully examined the girl in front of him.

_Oh, he must be Natalya’s brother! The hockey team’s captain…_

“Yes, it’s true” Maggie confirmed, blushing under Ivan’s sharp gaze.

“You’re quite small.” the boy declared after having carefully looked over the girl. “You don’t have the look of a hockey player, but Natasha says you’ve already played?”

Maggie nodded hurriedly. Impressing Ivan was her only hope.

“I used to live in Canada, I started playing when I was very little. And in elementary school, we only had mixed teams, so I’ve already played with and against boys.”

Ivan hummed in approval.

“Canadians are good at hockey. What role?”

“Forward.” muttered Maggie, wringing her hands, her uneasiness growing with each passing second.

Ivan raised his brow, clearly sceptical.

“Mmh? You look so shy and subdued… I would have never guessed.”

Maggie’s face heated up even more, but luckily Ivan wasn’t waiting for an answer.

“Well, it doesn’t matter.” he declared, shrugging. “Tomorrow we have practice right after school. You know where the ice rink is, don’t you? Get there, you can watch the practice, then I’ll have you try for a bit, da? If you’re good, you’re in.”

The boy still looked slightly doubtful, but his voice was neutrally pleasant, and the smile had never left his face.

Maggie nodded frantically.

“Thanks! Thank you very much, really, I…”

Ivan cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“I have to go now, I don’t want to be late. Girls, have a good day. I’ll see you tomorrow, Maggie.”

“Thank you.” Maggie managed to offer him a shy smile. “Good day to you, too.”

Ivan beamed at her before turning to get out, immediately followed by Natalya.

“Wait, Vanya! Can’t you stay a bit longer?”

Maggie blinked in bewilderment, staring at the two teens’ backs as they walked away.

Since Maggie had met her, Natalya had been cold and emotionless, if one wanted to overlook her fits of anger, but at that moment, she was clinging to her brother’s arm and talking in a whiny voice.

_That’s so weird…_

Moreover, in addition to not looking alike at all, the two had a different surname.

_Divorced parents, step-siblings, adoptive siblings who have kept their original surnames, or half-siblings?_

The issue intrigued her - it could have also shed light on Natalya’s apparently bipolar behaviour - but Maggie knew that she would have never dared to ask any of them.

She might obtain information from Alfred, the boy was clearly an enthusiastic and as much unaware source of gossip, but it wouldn’t be right to take advantage of his naivety. Besides, it wasn’t her business.

_That, and I’m not really keen on experiencing Natalya and Ivan’s reaction in they find out I’m talking about them behind their back…_

The mere thought sent shivers running down Maggie’s spine. She didn’t have any doubt that it wouldn’t be anything pleasant.

“Hockey? Seriously?”

Maggie gasped as she spun around.

The voice belonged to the same girl who had tried to trip her earlier (Riley, if Maggie had heard correctly), who was now staring at her with narrow eyes, smirking.

“Oh my God, could you be any more stereotyped than this? Seriously, the only thing you’re missing is, like, drinking maple syrup right from the bottle… or maybe you already do it, just not in public?”

Riley shook her head and shrugged, a disgusted frown etched in her features.

“Oh My God, hockey… this is like, the roughest and less feminine sport that was ever invented… What do you think you can do, show off while you wave that ugly stick?”

Maggie flattened herself against her chair, almost hoping it could swallow her and save her from that situation. Obviously, nothing of that sort happened.

Riley was still staring at her, her lips curled into a mocking half-smile as if daring Maggie to answer.

The girl sunk her teeth into her lower lip and clenched her fists, her nails digging into her skin.

Somebody giggled.

Maggie could feel her heart pound faster and faster inside her chest, hot tears prickling at the corner of her eyes as her stomach coiled painfully. She didn’t know what to do, how to answer.

Showing off was the last of her thoughts, it hadn’t even crossed her mind when she had decided to play hockey, but how could she even begin to explain it? It wasn’t like Riley actually cared, anyway.

Maggie wasn’t _that_ dumb, she had figured out that the other girl only wanted her to look bad so that Alfred would stop paying attention to her, but there was a kernel of truth in what Riley’s words implied: Maggie _was_ only an anonymous, bland girl. Surely, too much to find an effective retort to those accusations.

“She could stick it up your ass, maybe?” Natalya suggested brutally.

The Belarusian girl had just gotten back and was glowering at Riley, her arms folded under her breast.

Riley opened her mouth to retort, saw Natalya’s glare get even fiercer, and closed it again.

Shrugging, the girl let out a small huff, as if the accident held no importance, and headed towards her desk.

“It’s not like you’re any better, you frigid slut.” Maggie heard Riley whisper through her teeth.

She wasn’t the only one who had heard her. With fluid, elegant movements that reminded Maggie of a sabre-toothed tiger approaching her prey, Natalya slid closer to Riley.

“Did you say something?” she asked, leaning over her desk.

Her voice was cold and neutral, but the obvious threat sent a shiver running down Maggie’s back.

Riley paled as she recoiled, flattening herself against her seat.

“N-no.” she stuttered, any trace of her previous arrogance vanished. “I-I didn’t say anything.”

“That’s better.” Natalya declared icily, and without sparing a second glance to the other girl she whirled around and strode back to her seat.

An absolute silence reigned for a few minutes, then, little by little, tentative conversations started filling the room.

“Thank you.” Maggie whispered, offering Natalya a weak smile.

The Belarusian girl looked at her in utter disgust.

“I didn’t do it for you.” she said coldly, “I did it because I can’t stand those stupid whores and their lapdogs. But you… what were you thinking? What are you even trying to do? Do you think that somebody will come and help you out any time they start picking on you? Wake up! If you don’t start defending yourself, you’re just cannon fodder!”

Without waiting for an answer, Natalya turned and took a book from her bag, slamming it on the desk with more force than necessary.

Maggie suddenly realized that her teeth had cut through her lower lip, she could taste on her tongue the familiar coppery hint of blood. With a considerable effort, the girl forced her stiff muscles to relax.

 _She hates me, and she’s completely right_. How could she have done otherwise? From the first time Maggie had met her, Natalya had pointed out how pathetic Maggie was, and the girl knew that she was right. Just like Steve.

Looking away from the girl sitting next to her, Maggie forced herself to focus on her notes and the teacher who had just walked into the room. At least concentrating on the lesson prevented Maggie from thinking about anything else.

Natalya didn’t even spare another glance at her and at the end of the period she walked away quickly, without waiting for the other girl.

Maggie was left staring at Natalya’s straight hair, swaying against her back with each step. For how blunt she was, she didn’t seem to be a bad person, and for a moment Maggie had almost deluded herself into thinking that they could become, if not friends, at least acquaintances, somebody to spend time with.

The girl violently shook her head as she started tucking her books inside the bag.

_What was I thinking? I’m still me, still the same person. Nothing is going to change._

But Alfred…

As if on cue, the boy’s loud voice resounded from the door.

“Maggie! Come on, hurry up! We have History now!”

The girl hurriedly set everything and headed towards Alfred, unaware of the small smile that was tugging at her lips, lighting her features. The boy was beaming as he looked at her, his blue eyes glimmering behind the glasses.

“Come on come on let’s go! After this one, it’s lunchtime!”

Alfred grabbed Maggie’s arm and dashed through the corridors, heedless of the other students, who were forced to give way to him unless they wanted to be shoved aside. It was almost like getting to the class earlier would have also made the wait for the lunch break shorter, which was… childish, but at the same time adorable.

Maggie realized that she was smiling. She hadn’t forgotten Riley or Natalya, but Alfred’s cheerfulness was contagious, and all the gloomy thoughts that occupied her mind suddenly seemed less important, almost irrelevant before the boy’s smile.

“Thank you, Alfred.”

Maggie hadn’t certainly meant to say it out loud, and her voice was barely above a whisper, but Alfred still heard and turned to look at her quizzically as they walked into the classroom.

“Uhm… Okay? Sure, my heroic presence is quite a big deal, but I’m actually not doing anything.” He said, confused.

Maggie smiled, blushing.

“You’re doing a lot more than you may think.” she said, and immediately after lowered her head, amazed and embarrassed at that spark of audacity.

Alfred didn’t look anywhere closer to understanding the situation, but before he could ask any more questions Feliks and Tolys barged into the room, claiming his attention.

(actually, Feliks barged into the room calling loudly for Alfred and dragging along Tolys, who was trying to calm him down and failing miserably. His faint voice was completely drowned by the smaller boy’s louder one, and Feliks’ hold seemed to be surprisingly strong for such a slender boy.)

The rest of the period went on without anything notable happening, and finally, lunchtime came. Alfred was almost vibrating on the spot from the excitement as he waited for Maggie to put away all her books.

“Come on come on let’s go! Food is waiting for us!”

Alfred didn’t even wait for her to close the bag before swinging it over his shoulder as he grabbed Maggie’s arm and dragged her out of the room. Out of the corner of her eyes, the girl could see Feliks and Tolys follow them at a more leisured pace.

“Feli’s making pasta!” exclaimed Alfred, whose excitement seemed to grow with each passing second. “Aren’t you happy?”

Maggie answered with a vague hum of assent.

She had almost forgotten the Feliciano’s promise, but now that she thought about it she could feel anxiety starting to blossom across her stomach. She didn’t feel like eating, the mere thought was met by a slight wave of nausea, but she knew she had to force herself to. And it wasn’t only to avoid upsetting Feliciano: after the previous afternoon, Maggie could no longer afford to refrain from eating in front of Alfred.

The realization made her stomach twist, tightening her throat.

_Calm down, Maggie. It’s only for a bit, until he forgets about you. You can hang on until then._

It wasn’t a comforting thought.

Finally, the two teens reached the top of the stairs, slightly out of breath because of the run, and got to the rooftop. They were immediately welcomed by an enthusiastic greeting coming from Feliciano, _who was busying himself with stirring the water inside a huge pot placed on an induction cooker._

Maggie stopped dead in her tracks. Bewildered, she closed her eyes and opened them again, but the scene in front of her eyes didn’t change.

Feliciano was sitting in front of a big induction cooker upon which he had placed a pot full of water, that he was clearly warming. Next to it was a big pan, still empty, and nearby there was a tablecloth on which a pile of plates had been stacked next to some paper cups, bottles of water, cutlery, some boxes that seemed to hold spaghetti, and glass jars with something red (tomato sauce?) inside.

Maggie turned to Alfred, completely at loss, but the boy didn’t seem to find anything strange in the scene in front of their eyes.

“Perfect timing, I think the water is about to boil!” Feliciano said cheerfully, “Do you want some pasta, Alfred?”

The American boy nodded enthusiastically.

Maggie opened her mouth, then closed it again, still too stunned to say something of sense.

“Feli thinks that eating cold pasta is a capital sin, unless it actually has a sauce that is meant to be eaten cold.” Interjected Ludwig’s deep voice from behind her.

Maggie whirled around, a bit startled.

“But… Won’t he get in troubles?” she asked anxiously, wringing her hands. “Oh, I’m so sorry, it’s my fault, I told him I’d never eaten Italian, I shouldn’t have…”

Ludwig cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry, it’s not the first time he does this. Actually, it’s some kind of periodical occurrence…”

“Doesn’t anybody say something if you cook on the roof?” asked Maggie, unable to hide her disbelief.

Ludwig shrugged.

“Until nobody knows…”

“But…”

“Don’t worry, _bella_!” Feliciano cut in jovially, “One of the janitors knows, but I’ve blackmailed him with pizza!”

Alfred laughed loudly.

“Hey, how come I didn’t know that?”

Maggie bit her lower lip. The three boys seemed to be completely unconcerned, but she couldn’t understand _how_. She was quite sure that cooking on the roof wasn’t allowed, the risk that somebody might get hurt with the stoves or boiling water was too high. And she was even more certain that the punishment for breaking that rule wouldn’t be something light, it could even get to a suspension… why weren’t they worried? Didn’t they care of how angry their guardians would get?

Maggie didn’t even dare to _imagine_ Steve’s reaction. Of course, most of the parents weren’t like Steve and Maggie was sure that the boys were better children than she was, but in any case, there was no way they would be happy with something like that. Weren’t the boys afraid of letting them down?

A delicate touch on her arm made the girl start.

“Is everything alright?” asked Ludwig. In spite of his sharp voice, there was a glimmer of concern in his eyes. “You look a bit pale.”

Maggie hurriedly nodded an offered him a small smile, but the boy’s remark had gotten Alfred’s attention.

The boy gasped loudly. In an instant he was next to Maggie, scanning her anxiously, his brows knitted.

“You had breakfast, didn’t you?” he asked, stretching his arms towards the girl as if ready to catch her if she were to fall. “You aren’t going to faint again, are you?”

Maggie felt her face heating up as her stomach gave a twist of complaint.

“N-no, I’m fine.” she stammered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Again?” echoed Ludwig, the creases on his forehead deepening. He looked even sourer than before, but the glint of concern was still shining in his eyes.

“Yesterday after practice I went to get some ice-cream with Dad, and I met Maggie who had to shop for groceries, and she hadn’t eaten anything at lunch, remember? So she fainted, luckily I saw her!” Alfred rattled off before Maggie could even think of a way to stop him.

Feliciano gasped, his eyes wide with horror.

“That’s awful!” he squealed, “Make her sit down right now, Alfred! I have some cake left…”

The boy started rummaging around his bag.

In her brief fourteen years of life, Maggie had experienced too many instances in which she had been so embarrassed that she had wished she could disappear. When she was five and another child had managed to lower her skirt, showing her knickers to the whole day-care, all the times her mother had forgotten she had to collect her from school and had turned up hours late, dishevelled and looking like she hadn’t even realized her mistake, all the times she had tripped and fallen spectacularly in front of a huge public… one would think that Maggie had used up all her supply of embarrassing situations, but life seemed to enjoy surprising her each time. And for how much she would have wanted nothing but curl up in a corner and sob her eyes out, it was a luxury she couldn’t afford.

“I’m fine!” she found herself squealing, panicked. “I’m fine, really!”

“Thant’s what you said yesterday just before collapsing on me!” replied Alfred, looking more agitated with each passing moment.

He wasn’t wrong, and Maggie found herself unable to counter his words effectively.

The boy took advantage of that moment of silence to grab Maggie firmly from her arms and drag her towards Feliciano, who had found the cake. The boy tried to put it directly into Maggie’s mouth as Alfred’s strong hand pushed her shoulders, forcing her to sit down.

Maggie turned her head, trying to avoid Feliciano.

“No! I’m fine, I really am, it’s nothing like yesterday…”

Her faint words were completely ignored. The two boys were talking above each other, Feliciano trying to get her to eat, while Alfred wanted her to lie down.

Maggie didn’t know what to do, her stomach was churning in protest, but her feeble voice was completely ignored by the two frantic boys.

“STOP IT RIGHT NOW, BOTH OF YOU!”

Ludwig’s stern voice managed to drown out the others, making both Feliciano and Alfred freeze.

“You won’t solve anything that way!” the Ludwig barked with growing annoyance, his eyebrows twitching. “Can’t you see you’re just making her uneasy?!”

Feliciano and Alfred trained their eyes back on Maggie, various grade of guilt etched in their features.

“Sorry…” they murmured in chorus, mortified.

Maggie shook her head, trying to get her breathing under control.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.” she said hurriedly, aware that the boys wouldn’t have acted that way unless her previous behaviour hadn’t made them worry. “But I wasn’t going to faint. Really.”

A heavy silence enveloped the four teens.

“But… did you really faint yesterday?” Feliciano asked after a few moments, his eyes wide and glowing with concern.

For how Maggie’s chest tightened at the thought of upsetting the sweet boy, she had no way to deny anything, since Alfred had been present, so she found herself nodding, lowering her head.

“I… It was a bit of a miscalculation.” She said weakly.

“You shouldn’t skip meals.” Ludwig declared sharply, “It’s always a bad habit, even more so if you’re already so thin.”

The boy was looking critically at Maggie’s slim legs, his brows furrowed and his mouth pressed in a thin line. The girl found herself fidgeting under his gaze, her stomach coiling with uneasiness.

“Well, no point dwelling over the past!” chimed in Feliciano, sounding cheerful again.

Maggie briefly wondered whether he was actually so much of an airhead, or if he was pretending just to lighten the atmosphere.

“Ve~ _Today_ you’re eating for sure!”

The smile never slipping from his face, Feliciano took the jars with the sauce and poured it into the pan as he turned on the stove.

“It’s with fresh tomatoes,” he explained, “I made it yesterday at home because I wouldn’t have had enough time today, but it’s still good!”

Maggie smiled, welcoming with relief the change of topic.

“I’m sure it is. I don’t really know how to thank you…”

The boy shrugged, beaming.

“You don’t have to! I like cooking, you know? Besides, I can be sure you won’t faint again if you eat.”

Maggie sighed.

_Wow, what a change of topic…_

Even without seeing them, the girl could feel Ludwig’s and Alfred’s sharp eyes plastered on her, studying every single move.

_How could it be any worse?_

The answer came with Feliks’ shrill voice.

“Who fainted?”

With growing dread, a lump in her throat, Maggie turned towards the stairs, from where Tolys, Feliks, Raivis and Erika had just emerged.

“Maggie yesterday.” answered Feliciano, “Does any of you want pasta? I know Kiku does, he should be here any moment now.”

Four pairs of eyes full of shocked concern focused on Maggie.

The girl could do nothing but fidget nervously with the hems of her sleeves, blushing with the growing embarrassment, praying that something - anything would have been welcome - could divert their attention from her. Her stomach was twisting and churning so much that she was afraid she was going to throw up, if something didn’t happen _fast_.

“Oh my God, this is so awful!” Feliks exclaimed with a theatrical gap, “It’s totally because you didn’t eat at lunch, isn’t it?! Don’t tell me…”

“Anyway, who wants this pasta?!” roared Ludwig, managing to shut Feliks up and cutting off any further intervention on the matter.

Everybody raised their hands as they got closer to where Maggie and the others were sitting, accurately avoiding to look at the girl or Ludwig.

The German boy looked even more exasperated.

Fortunately, Feliciano broke the silence when he decided to list all the ingredients he had used on the sauce, to make sure nobody had issues with them. (Apparently, ‘tomato sauce’ involved a lot more than just tomatoes. Maggie got lost after the basil, still too shaken to concentrate properly on Feliciano’s words.)

Not long after, a breathless Kiku joined the group, apologizing profusely for being late (one of his teachers wanted to talk to him about the photography club), and little by little the teens started chatting, retelling the anecdotes of the day. Sometimes somebody stole a quick glance at Maggie, but after Ludwig’s outburst, nobody dared to mention another time the fainting, something the girl would feel eternally grateful for.

“Pasta is ready!” Feliciano announced after a few minutes, enthusiastic.

Maggie stared at him as he got up with the pot to cheerfully empty it on the drain, careful not to let out any pasta. Once again, nobody seemed baffled at his action. Alfred and Feliks were cheering the imminent food, while Erika and Ludwig had started sorting the plates with the automation of somebody who was quite used to it.

 _It’s crazy_. Nevertheless, it was the most welcoming environment Maggie had been in while.

Soon after, the girl found a steaming plate in her hands. She wasn’t hungry, her stomach not quite settled after the previous excitement, but she knew that a bit of food wouldn’t hurt, since she hadn’t even had breakfast, and the smell of basil with an aftertaste of garlic emitted from the sauce was inviting.

Feliciano was sitting right in front of Maggie, an overly full plate in his hands, but he had yet to start eating and was staring at the girl, his huge honey-amber eyes wide.

Maggie hurriedly took a forkful of spaghetti.

“It’s delicious!” she said immediately, smiling at Feliciano.

It wasn’t a flavour she was used to, but she wasn’t lying, it was pleasantly fresh in her mouth.

Feliciano’s face was immediately lit by a wide smile.

“Ottimo! From now on I’ll cook for you any time you want, you only have to ask!”

That wasn’t what Maggie was trying to get at, and she was about to tell him, but Feliciano had already dug into his plate, an expression of utmost beatitude lighting his features, and the girl realized that, at that moment, there wasn’t space for anything else.

Beside her, Alfred said something, but he was gorging himself on the spaghetti, and Maggie couldn’t make out his words.

“Mhmh…” she hummed neutrally, smiling, just as Ludwig started scolding the boy.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full!”

His effort, however, was light-hearted at best. _He has probably given up by now._

Nobody else commented on it, and bit by bit the air was filled with everybody’s light chattering.

As usual, Maggie found herself hanging around the margins of the conversations, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Even if she hardly talked at all, there was something in the atmosphere that didn’t make her feel excluded. Maybe it was because from time to time somebody smiled at her or actively tried to involve her in the conversation, or because when somebody’s eyes fell on Maggie they didn’t immediately move as if she were only an empty spot, but for some reason that group of people managed to do something Maggie had never thought would be possible: they didn’t make her feel like she was invisible.

 _‘Must be because I’m a novelty, soon everything will be back to normal.’_ She remarked mentally.

There was nothing pleasant in that thought, but it would have been even less pleasant if she deluded herself into thinking that the situation wouldn’t change.

Alfred tried to talk to her a few times, but he was too busy with eating for Maggie to understand what he was saying.

The girl was sincerely impressed: Alfred had managed to wolf down three plates of pasta, and after them, without slowing down for a second, he had whipped out of his backpack a box with two hamburgers and devoured them. Now he was busying himself with a big bar of chocolate.

_Where does he put all those calories?!_

Alfred couldn’t have been called scrawny, but with his hoodie open over a tight t-shirt Maggie could clearly see the outline of his flat and toned stomach. The girl felt her cheeks heating up and quickly diverted her gaze, focusing on the others.

Feliciano, she realized, wasn’t any less impressive than Alfred: Maggie was sure that he had eaten at least three plates of pasta, maybe even four, and now he was cleaning out the pan of any remains. And, unlike Alfred, he was definitely thin.

_Male metabolism…_

Maggie, on the other hand, was starting to feel slightly nauseous only for having finished the first serving. Deaf to any complaint, Feliciano had filled her plate a second time, but she had managed to get rid of it pouring the pasta in Alfred’s plate, bit by bit. Kiku was the only one who had noticed, and for a moment Maggie had been sure he was offended, but the boy had merely offered her a light, amused smile. He didn’t seem to eat a lot, as well, maybe he was used to Feliciano’s antics.

For a second time, the break ended a lot quicker than Maggie would have expected. Wordlessly, the teens started spontaneously gathering the plates and utensils, dumping them into a big green bucket Maggie hadn’t noticed before.

Inching closer, the girl saw that it was filled with water and soap. Ludwig, his hands now covered by rubber gloves, started washing the plates as Feliciano sprayed them with water on a second bucket, and Kiku dried everything.

Maggie stared at them for a few moments, mesmerized by their smooth, clearly practised and well-honed movements before realizing she wasn’t helping at all.

“M-may I help you?” she asked immediately, blushing.

“Don’t worry, we’re fine!” Feliciano answered immediately, “You can go!”

Maggie wanted to reply - he had already been far too nice, it wasn’t fair that he washed the plates all by himself, too – but Alfred lightly placed a hand over her arm before any sound could seep through her lips.

“Stop worrying, they’ll take care of it.” he said cheerfully, “Come on, I’ll get you to your next class.”

Reluctantly, Maggie let herself be dragged away from the older boys. She still felt guilty for not helping them, but a glance behind her shoulders showed them moving quickly and efficiently like it was a well-consolidated routine. Maybe she would have just troubled them trying to intervene.

In the meantime, Erika and Raivis had already gathered all the plates and paper utilities and dumped them inside a big rubbish sack, that they were dragging downstairs. Feliks and Tolys were both already gone.

“I’ll bring pizza for everybody tomorrow!” declared Feliciano, a moment before Maggie and Alfred closed the door behind them.

“Don’t worry, it’s always this way.” Alfred said before Maggie could protest or ask something. “Feli likes cooking, it’s not a bother for him.”

Maggie bit her lower lip.

“But… isn’t it a bit too much? I mean, even economically…”

Alfred chuckled.

“Nah, don’t worry, really! Roderich’s filthy rich, and even if he doesn’t like that much spending money he’d do anything for Feli, so it’s no problem… besides, sometimes he brings leftovers from the restaurant. You know, that stuff’s still good, but they can’t sell it the following day, so they give most of it to a charity association, but sometimes Feli keeps something and brings it for us. Lovi used to do it, too, when he was still in school.”

Maggie nodded. Her uneasiness in taking the food offered by the Italian boy hadn’t diminished, but apparently, it was something regular and not prompted by her presence, so refusing would have been quite rude. Feliciano’s face had lit up so much when he had seen her enjoying the meal he had made…

 _I should find a way to return the favour. Maybe I could bring something to eat, too?_ Maggie wasn’t a genius, but she could cook decently, especially sweets.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, however, she realized how unfeasible it actually was: it was far too expensive. Even if Maggie was the one in care of groceries, Steve always checked all the receipts, and while she could find a way to justify the purchase of so many ingredients, he would surely notice their premature disappearance.

“Maggie?”

Alfred’s voice brought her back to reality. It sounded oddly hesitant, prompting Maggie to turn towards him.

“Yes?”

The boy’s expression didn’t give off the usual confidence, he looked almost nervous as he readjusted his glasses before bringing his attention back to Maggie.

“Are you still free after school?”

The girl halted in the middle of the stairs, at a loss.

“W-what?”

Alfred’s features darkened for a moment before his lips curled back into a smile, but it looked forced, and not as wide as usual.

“Yesterday I asked you if you wanted to go out… but if you don’t want it’s no problem, really…”

Maggie gaped at Alfred for a few moments, still confused, before the conversation came back to her mind.

The girl unconsciously brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes widening.

_Oh._

_OH! That’s true, he did ask me yesterday…_

After everything that had happened afterwards, she had completely forgotten about Alfred’s proposal. Actually, Maggie had never thought him to be earnest about it, but the boy’s last words implied otherwise.

And he was still waiting for her answer, she realized suddenly.

“Oh, no, of course not, I just…” Maggie’s voice trailed off as the girl bit her lower lip.

_I just what?_

She couldn’t possibly tell Alfred she had forgotten, it might upset him, since it seemed to be important for him. Nor could she tell him she had assumed he was just asking out of kindness, not because he actually meant to carry on his proposal. The more Maggie thought about it, the more she felt ashamed for assuming something like that: Alfred seemed so sincere… not somebody who would have lied like that.

“I forgot to tell Steve.” she made up on the spot.

It wasn’t even a real lie. She would have never dared to ask Steve for the authorisation to go out with a boy, not after his outburst about the mixed hockey team. Not that he had ever looked kindly upon Maggie spending time with boys, she only had to think about Carlos…

“Oh…” muttered Alfred, his features smoothening in relief. “So you _do_ want to come?”

“Of course I do!”

Maggie was surprised to realize that her enthusiasm wasn’t faked. She truly _wanted_ to spend some time with Alfred. Actually, she was looking forward to it.

The sudden realization almost left her out of breath. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been so hyped up about something.

“What will you do with your dad?”

Maggie barely restrained a shiver of revulsion at such a nonchalant use of that word.

 _He’s_ not _my dad._

“Actually, he’s working this afternoon.” she thought out loud, “He won’t be back before dinner, I don’t need to tell him anything.”

“Lying to your dad? Wow, I didn’t take you for somebody who’d do that!”

Alfred chuckled at his clearly ironical comment, making Maggie blush. He had no way to know how his light-hearted words were making her stomach churn with guilt.

“I-I’m not really lying!” the girl tried to defend herself, seeking to hide her discomfort. “I’m just… omitting an information?”

Alfred cocked his eyebrows, an amused grin curling his lips.

“Nice excuse.” he said teasingly, his voice light.

“I don’t think he’d let me come, if I asked him.” Maggie admitted in a whisper.

Her mind was in turmoil as she tried to come up with the best way to address the issue without arousing Alfred’s suspicion. She needed to have his support to avoid him from accidentally letting something slip, or even worse, asking her to get to know Steve, but he mustn’t think that the man was somebody unpleasant.

Alfred’s expression immediately returned serious.

“Oh… Why? Won’t you get in trouble?”

“Not if he doesn’t find out.” Maggie declared resolutely, clenching her fists. “It’s just that… Steve would get really mad if he knew I went out with a boy.”

Realizing the implication of her statement, the girl blushed violently, but she forced herself to keep talking.

“I don’t mean romantically, it’s just that, well, he doesn’t really have a high esteem for boys our age… I mean, I know you, and I know you’re a good person, but Steve… he’s always been very protective towards me, and since Mama died…”

Maggie let her voice trail off and looked down at her feet, careful to avoid Alfred’s eyes. She hated herself for what she was doing, for how she was trying to manipulate him. Alfred didn’t deserve it, he had been welcoming and sincere from the first time he had met her, but she didn’t have any choice unless she wanted to deal with Steve’s anger.

_Coward._

“Oh…” Alfred murmured weakly. He sounded uneasy, and Maggie felt a lump in her throat, but she hoped that he wasn’t going to ask anything else.

“Well, see you after school then?”

Maggie smiled, relieved by the change of topic and the way Alfred’s voice sounded lively again.

“Sure! I only have to be home in time to cook dinner.”

Alfred chuckled as he resumed climbing down the stairs.

“Do you always cook? Okay, I take it back, you’re a model daughter.”

Maggie blushed at the undeserved flattery.

“I don’t really think so…” she muttered as she followed Alfred.

“Stop being so modest! You know, yesterday after we got you home Dad wouldn’t stop talking about what a diligent, respectful and sensible girl you are… seriously, he was about to ask your hand in marriage!”

Maggie tightened her hold on the bannister as Alfred kept talking, her free hand clenching into a first. The nails almost cut into her skin.

_It isn’t true. I’m useless, pathetic, nothing but a burden._

Steve told her so incessantly. How much he spent for her, how difficult being a single father was, so much that it was slowly driving him to rely more and more on alcohol, how much he hated himself for having to punish Maggie the way he did, but it was for her own good.

However, for some inexplicable reason, Alfred and Arthur had misunderstood everything about her. Sure, Alfred might be unable of cooking and too absent-minded to get to the register with his cart filled with the items written on the list instead of a huge collection of snacks and trash food, but he was nothing like Maggie. He could afford those little mistakes, he had nothing else he had to compensate for trying to be attentive at least in those chores.

To her relief, Alfred quickly switched the subject, making sure the girl was okay with going to the park after school and then launching himself in a detailed explanation of all the species of birds and ducks that could be seen inside, leaving Maggie to listen.

The boy hadn’t still finished talking when he left Maggie in front of her Biology class, where she was welcomed by Feliks, who was keeping her seat.

A few girls - Alyssa included - giggled, mocking Feliks’ accent and gestures, but he ignored them, so Maggie forced herself to follow his lead, in spite of the way her stomach clenched. Feliks was smiling at her, and she was going to spend the afternoon with Alfred, she wasn’t going to let some spoiled little girls ruin her time.

“Do you want some makeup?” Feliks asked suddenly, startling her.

“What?”

The boy winked, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“I know you are going out with Alfred, he wouldn’t have been so happy if you had refused… so, do you want to put on a little makeup? I have something with me, I can help you, Mr Wright is going to be late, I saw him just before getting inside and he was on the phone with his wife.”

Maggie was too bewildered to hide the horrified expression etched in her features.

Feliks misunderstood her.

“Oh, I didn’t mean that you _need_ makeup! You totally have gorgeous features, there’s nothing to fix! It’s just that you always seem to be, like… hiding yourself? I just though a bit of makeup could give you confidence! I can even do your hair, your twintails are totally adorable, but you could look, like, a little older with your hair loose, or maybe a half-up-half-down…”

“F-Feliks…” Maggie managed to cut him off.

She felt her cheeks burning, and she was praying that nobody would notice.

“It’s not a date, it really isn’t. Alfred didn’t mean it to be a date, he only wanted to show me around because I’m new… thank you, really, but you don’t need to put any make-up on me.”

The girl was internally panicking. She hadn’t even _thought_ about the fact that she might have needed to freshen up, she wasn’t even dropping home, and it surely wasn’t a romantic date. But maybe she should have? Since Alfred had gotten as far as asking her out, maybe it would be rude if she didn’t even put a little effort in the way she looked? Maybe she should accept Feliks’ help…

On the other hand, Alfred didn’t seem to mind the way other people dressed, judging from his inexistent reactions to Alyssa’s skimpy clothes. What if Maggie only made herself ridiculous with some makeup?

“Mmh?” Feliks’s hum brought her back to reality.

The boy was looking at her, his eyebrows raised and a sceptical expression on his face.

“Feliks, it’s not what you think, really. Alfred doesn’t see me _that_ way…”

“Well, not yet, but he totally could… or is it because you don’t like him and you don’t want to think that he may have a romantical interest towards you?”

If Maggie had thought she had reached the most intense shade of red in men’s memory before, she had certainly been wrong.

“Feliks! I didn’t mean that, it’s not that I don’t like Alfred…”

Mistake.

 _Big_ mistake.

Feliks’ smile had assumed a vaguely predatory undertone.

“Sooo you’re confessing that you like him…”

“A-as a friend!” Maggie answered hurriedly, almost squealing. “I mean, I’ve known him for three days!”

At the same time, her mind could do nothing but linger on pictures of Alfred, his blue eyes (of such a bright, intense blue) that shone behind the glasses, his warm and lively smile, his broad shoulders and the strong arms that had held her the previous day, leaning against the lean, toned body…

_Stop it! Just stop it, for God’s sake!_

There was no way to deny that Alfred was incredibly handsome. But… that didn’t mean anything, it was just her teenage hormones reacting to that. Maggie hardly knew Alfred enough to think about something romantic…

“There’s a thing called ‘love at the first sight’,” Feliks informed her, satisfaction seeping from his voice. “Now, where should I start?”

Maggie wanted to burst into tears.

“No! No, please, Feliks, don’t, I don’t want Alfred to…” her voice trailed off.

Maggie herself didn’t know what she feared. Trying to look prettier only to go through the disappointment of not being noticed anyway? That Alfred would notice her, and think she was so desperate in her attempt to get his attention to try to do it through an artificial beauty? To look ridiculous in her attempt to look, even if not beautiful, at least vaguely pretty?

Maybe none of those, or maybe a mixture of everything.

“Hey, I wasn’t trying to pressure you or anything!” exclaimed Feliks. The smile had slipped from his face, and he looked a bit ashamed. “Calm down, you don’t have to panic, I was just trying to help you!”

Maggie breathed in deeply. She felt horrible, Feliks was only trying to be nice and she had nullified his effort with a temper tantrum worthy of a five-year-old.

“Sorry.” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Feliks shrugged.

“Don’t worry about it. If it makes you so uncomfortable, you don’t have to put on any makeup or anything. It’s just that you’re like, so beautiful but you behave like you aren’t, so I thought that a bit of makeup would have made you more confident.”

The boy sounded sincere, and Maggie offered him a weak smile.

“Thank you, really, but you don’t have to lie. I know I’m not beautiful, but you see… the right makeup makes miracles, I know, but I’d just feel… I don’t know… _fake_ , I guess, if I showed myself with a face that wasn’t mine.”

Feliks violently shook his head and theatrically threw his hands to the sky.

“Oh, God save us from teenage girls’ chronical lack of self-esteem! Not beautiful? Are you for real?! Have you ever looked at yourself in a mirror?! You have, like, totally perfect hair, _lilac_ eyes - do you realize how rare that colour his?! - flawless skin and I don’t understand why you always wear loose clothes, since you have a body any girl would die for!”

Maggie flattened against her seat, struck by the boy’s vehemence.

_Does he truly think I’m beautiful?_

Surely not, he had to be mocking her, but it was _Feliks_ she was talking about… and Feliks didn’t look like that kind of person at all, just like Feliciano the previous day. At the same time, his words sounded too heated to have been said only out of kindness.

_Is it even possible that he really thinks I’m beautiful?_

After all, beauty was an extremely subjective perception, and even if Maggie thought she was anything but beautiful it was _her_ perception of that matter, somebody might see it differently, and, for how improbable, it wasn’t impossible for somebody to find her… not beautiful, that was truly impossible, but pretty? Well, that could be. And Feliks was so overdramatic that he had probably exaggerated everything. Yes, that was more likely.

“Seriously,” sighed Feliks, shaking his head. “First Erika, and now you… why it’s always the most beautiful girls who don’t realize it? Here, let me fix your hair at least.”

Realizing that it would have only made things worse, Maggie didn’t try to deny Feliks’s statement, and wordlessly loosened the ribbons her hair was tied with, hoping to pacify the boy. Her twintails _had_ gotten a bit messy, after all.

“Erika?” she asked as Feliks started running a hairbrush he had gotten from his bag through her hair, hoping to divert the attention from herself. “But she’s so pretty…”

Feliks sighed.

“Yeah, she totally is. But she’s upset about being so short and flat, she thinks she looks much younger than she is.”

Which was true, Maggie realized suddenly. She and Erika didn’t look the same age at all… the girl felt a pang of envy towards the other girl, which immediately turned into guilt. It wasn’t Erika’s fault if she was so pretty and petite, and she shouldn’t be held accountable for that.

“But being flat looks good with her body shape,” she found herself saying, “I mean, she’s so petite that a big breast would look out of place… and she has such pretty facial features! Her eyes are gorgeous, too.”

Feliks tugged at a strand of hair a bit more forcefully than necessary.

“Says the one with lilac eyes.” he remarked dryly, “No, seriously, I think that too! Mind you, it’s not like she would look bad with a bigger breast, it’s just that she looks beautiful without it, too. It makes her look very delicate and sophisticated.”

The boy sighed again.

“But what can I say? You girls are never happy about how you look. Your hair is totally gorgeous, you know that, don’t you? It’s, like, so smooth… I would totally brush it for hours! Are you really really sure you don’t want me to try something?”

“N-no, twintails are fine, please.” Maggie answered automatically, startled by the sudden change of topic, but relieved nonetheless.

Feliks huffed, displeased, but did as he had been told.

Maggie slowly let her tense shoulders relax, finally enjoying the soothing feeling of the slim fingers threading delicately through her hair.

She was almost sure the previous, uncomfortable conversation was over, when Feliks’ fingers stilled, lingering over the ribbon he had just tied. Maggie heard the boy take a deep breath.

“Maggie? I get that you think you aren’t beautiful, and your self-esteem is basically underground, but… you don’t think you’re fat, do you?”

His voice was the most serious Maggie had ever heard from him.

“What?” she asked, startled, turning to face the boy.

_‘Am I fat?’_

Maggie had never really thought about it, and she actually didn’t think she was. Her breasts were too big for her liking, but her legs and arms slim, and she could count her ribs… she had never thought of herself as fat. Badly proportioned, yes, but not actually fat.

Feliks’s face was oddly sombre, his eyes dark.

“You didn’t eat yesterday at lunch. In fact, you went so far that you fainted. You… you aren’t doing that because you’re on a diet, are you? Please tell me you’re not starving yourself…”

Maggie’s eyes widened as a wave of guilt washed over her.

“Oh! Oh, no, Feliks! I… I didn’t do it for that, I swear! I was just… I wasn’t hungry, but I didn’t mean not to eat, I thought I would be fine!”

Feliks didn’t look convinced. He opened his mouth to answer, his gaze firm on Maggie’s face, but right then the teacher went through the door, apologizing for the delay, and the teens’ focus abruptly shifted to him.

Maggie and Feliks didn’t have the time to talk for the rest of the period, and at the end Feliks had to rush to his next classroom, leaving the girl alone.

Maggie kept replaying the conversation in her mind as she headed towards the following class. She had never realized that her thoughtless actions might have such a deep impact not only on Alfred but the other teens as well. And while her stomach churned with guilt at the thought of getting them so upset, there was a strange feeling of warmth blossoming in her chest.

Maggie had never thought that so many people could care so much about her well-being. And while she was aware that it would end soon, she couldn’t help but dwell in how pleasant that feeling was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is the Russian diminutive for Natalya. That's the reason Ivan calls her like that (Iryna as well, but she won't appear until later), while the people who met her in America call her Nat. 
> 
> Cold pasta can be a capital sin, depending on the sauce. Seriously, there are only a few sauces that are to be eaten cold, the others don't taste the way they are supposed to at all if they aren't warm. Of course, one might like them anyway, but it's not something an Italian would give to somebody to make them try Italian food. And Feliciano is very serious when it comes to food, in my opinion. 
> 
> A last note: there's still nothing romantic between Alfred and Maggie, except for the fact that they notice each other as physically attractive, but from my experience, everybody teases all the time (even if good-naturedly) when a teen girl and a teen boy interact... 
> 
> Well, I hope you enjoyed this. Once again, it was originally a single chapter with the following part, so I'll try to post next chapter soon, in a week or so. Please consider leaving a review, they are a big motivation to write faster!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for showing interest in this story, and a special thanks for the reviews. They really mean the world to me. I hope you’ll like this chapter too! (and I apologize in advance, but it’s probably going to be some time between this and the next time.  
> No particular warnings except for the fact that English isn’t my first language.

Maggie was desperately trying to take notes, but her teacher’s monotone voice was drowned by the recollection of Feliks’s words, that kept running through her mind like a broken tape. The fact that she was already familiar with the subject didn’t help, and the girl ended up spending the entire period trying to sort out her feelings - there was a twinge of guilt for having made Feliks worry, but at the same time, she couldn’t deny how pleasant the boy’s unexpected concern had been.

Maggie was suddenly torn out of her thoughts when the last bell rang, abruptly reminding her of a _different_ and much more pressing issue she should have focused on. She only barely realized the way her classmates were getting up and rushing out in the corridors, buzzing with eagerness to get out of the school.

Maggie followed them at a slower pace and she took time to set with care all the books inside the locker, but the forcefully calm movements weren’t enough to keep at bay the stress that was slowly creeping over her, making her stomach twist in discomfort.

_‘What am I supposed to do? Alfred is waiting for me… I have to talk, too, I don’t want him to think I’m boring…’_

But she _was_ boring, there lay the problem.

Maggie violently shook her head, clenching her fists. She couldn’t afford to think that way, Alfred had been nice to ask her out, she couldn’t ruin everything before it had even started.

Another alarming thought suddenly crossed her mind.

_‘What if Feliks was right? Oh God, I’m such an idiot… I should have least tried to doll up a little! I’ll look so ridiculous…’_

Maggie realized that she had started hyperventilating, tiny black spots were dancing in front of her eyes. Using every inch of her will, she closed her eyes and forced herself to take a deep, shuddering breath.

_I need to calm down. Alfred is waiting for me._

Trying to ignore the trembling of her hands, Maggie resolutely closed the locker and took her bag before heading towards the school’s entrance.

Walking amongst the other teens without Alfred turned out more difficult than the girl would have expected, more than once a stray limb or bag hit her already aching bruises and she was almost tripped down the stairs. Nobody stopped to apologize, or even acknowledged her presence at all. Maggie knew she should have been used to it, nobody ever noticed her in crowds, but her previous schools had never been that crowded, so it had been easier for her to walk around without getting in troubles.

Finally, Maggie caught a glimpse of Alfred’s dark blond hair among the swarm of teens. The boy was standing next to the entrance, a bit to the side, with a bomber jacket over his hoodie and his backpack hanging from his shoulders. He was fidgeting on his feet as he talked to Kiku, looking something between nervous and excited.

As soon as Alfred caught sight of Maggie, he beamed, his eyes glimmering behind the lens of the glasses.

As abruptly as it had formed, the knot in the girl’s stomach seemed to vanish. Smiling back, she quickly walked to the boys, loosening the arms that had been wrapped tightly around her coat.

“I have to go back inside, I have to fix a few things for the photography club.” Kiku said, accompanying his words with a slight bow of his head. “I hope you have a good afternoon.”

Maggie whispered a _“Thanks, same to you,”_ as she offered the boy a faint smile, while Alfred all but yelled his goodbye at Kiku’s retreating back.

Maggie wondered how Alfred could still have so much energy after a full day of school. She would have been ready to collapse on a bed until the following day, but Alfred seemed to ooze vitality in a way that was fascinating, to say at least.

“Kiku’s really cool, you know?” the boy started saying a moment later, turning to Maggie. “He seems quiet and reserved, but once you get to know him he’s very loyal and attentive and he’s a lot of fun to be around, he plays video games with me and he lends me his manga and tells me which ones I would like, you know just last week he gave me an entire series and…”

Alfred suddenly halted and ran a hand through his hair.

“But maybe you’re not interested in this, are you?”

“Oh, no!” Maggie was quick to reassure him, her stomach twisting at the thought of causing Alfred any kind of distress - even the smallest spark of self-doubt. “I… I actually read a lot of manga, so…”

The girl felt her cheeks heating up as her voice drifted off. Her interests had been the cause of mockery numerous times before, and for how much she kept telling herself that there wasn’t anything inherently bad in liking more traditionally boyish things, just kids being kids and cruel, Maggie couldn’t smother the twinge of embarrassment at her admission. But maybe, it would be different with Alfred? She didn’t want to lie to him, after all.

Much to her surprise, the boy beamed at her.

“Oh, that’s so cool!”

Without stopping to take a breath, Alfred launched himself in an explanation of his favourite stories, leaving Maggie pleasantly surprised when she discovered that they had almost the same tastes, and while she was more interested in characterization than action like Alfred, they mostly read the same series. Maggie found herself relaxing as she talked to Alfred while he led her through the streets, stopping now and then to point at something he found interesting. And yes, the boy was the one who did most of the talking, but Maggie was answering his question, and she couldn’t remember the last time she had talked so much and in such a relaxed fashion. Talking with Alfred was just so _easy_ … not only they had shared interests, but the boy was so lively and hyped up about everything that Maggie slowly found herself worrying less and less about his judgement. Somehow, she didn’t see him giving her a hard time for something she might say.

It didn’t take long for Maggie to almost completely forget about anything but the conversation, her concerns slowly drifting off her mind as a light smile stretched her lips, leaving her feeling lighter than she had in years. Alfred gradually shifted the topic of the conversation from manga to comics, revealing his boundless passion for them - he apparently adored anything that had to do with superheroes, but he held in particularly high regard Captain America.

“You know, I’ve always loved superheroes, since I was a little kid.” he was saying, gesturing animatedly. “They’re just so cool! I mean, they have a lot of superpowers and they could use them to get anything they wanted, instead, they choose to help people. Just… can you think of how cool it is? When I was a little, I wanted to become a superhero when I grew up. Just like Mom, you know? She was an EMT, and sometimes she had long shifts or she had to be away the entire night… I remember asking for her sometimes, and Dad would tell me that she was away saving people, that she was a superhero. And… yeah okay, it’s not like that but it still… she was helping people. And by helping those people she was doing her best to make the world a better place, so, even if she couldn’t be with me, Mom was doing her best to make the world a better place – and in a way, it was for me, too. For me and for everybody else. I want to be like that, too.”

Alfred’s eyes glimmered with determination as he uttered those words, his voice was so earnest and confident that Maggie found herself completely captivated.

 _“Being altruistic means being a moron,”_ Steve would say when he got into an oddly philosophical drunken stupor of his, _“We don’t live in a fucking fairy tale. You take what you want, or somebody else will take it from you. You either rule or get ruled, if you show some kindness they’ll drag you down and make you eat dust. There’s nothing to earn in kindness, you little bitch, and anybody with a little brain will realize it.”_

Alfred was anything but an idiot, however. His words and his actions marked him as kind, yet, the strength that his confident words exuded was undeniable. Listening to him, Maggie couldn’t help but think that the world would be a better place if there were more people like Alfred.

And just right then, as if he hadn’t just said something so _huge_ , the boy completely changed the topic.

“Oh, but you like reading novels, don’t you? Do you like fantasy? Yesterday you said you liked Dad’s books… Did you read all of them?”

Maggie’s eyes widened with surprise, a strange feeling of warmth blossoming in her chest. She hadn’t thought Alfred would remember her words… but he did. He didn’t only remember her existence, her name, but also what she had thoughtlessly said the previous day. It was somehow upsetting because it meant Maggie should be extra careful with anything she said, but also oddly inebriating. It was almost like… she was _somebody_ to Alfred. Not just a nameless shadow among a group of faceless teens - but herself. Marguerite Williams. Her own, unique person.

_It won’t last long. Even Alfred can’t be so nice to remember you forever, you can’t raise your hopes._

But even if it was only for a few days, Alfred was giving Maggie a taste of something she had thought forever out of her reach, and, no matter how much it would hurt once it was over, the girl couldn’t help feeling deeply grateful to him.

“I _love_ fantasy.” she found herself whispering, smiling timidly at Alfred as she uncovered another part of her personality. “I love reading in general, actually. It’s like living a different life.” It took her away from reality, helping her forget for a moment how sad and meaningless her existence was. “And fantasy’s just… extra special in that. And your dad… I love his plots. They’re so complicated and full of twists…” They kept her completely engrossed in the story, thinking about it even when she wasn’t reading, providing an escape from the dull routine as she kept mulling over a new reveal. When she was reading, Maggie could almost ignore the throbbing of her bruises, push aside Steve drunkenly ranting in the dining room, forget the reek of alcohol that seeped through her closed door.

As she had been doing at that moment, the girl realized suddenly. It wasn’t only reading - also having a light conversation with somebody could help her pretend that everything was all right. And the best thing was - it wasn’t even completely a farce. Basked in the golden sunrays, walking slowly on the sidewalk among the laughter of children, listening to Alfred as he retold how his passion for fantasy had spawned from Arthur telling him fairy tales when he was a child, everything wasn’t only all right - it was perfect. More that Maggie had had in a while - more than she deserved, surely. But maybe, just for one time, it was okay?

It wasn’t long before the two teens reached the park.

Maggie immediately fell in love with the place: it was nothing like the woods behind her old house in Canada, but for such a big and busy city the park was huge, a bubble of calm in the very middle of the civilization. Maggie could see a lake in the centre, surrounded by a vast, flat expanse of high trees that filtered the sunlight through their knotted branches covered with orange and red leaves, seemingly shielding the park from the surrounding city. Some ducks were flapping around, squeaking in protest when a group of laughing children got a bit too close.

Maggie stood still for a moment, savouring the sight and smell of nature, then Alfred gently tugged the arm of her coat.

“Come with me.”

His golden face graced by a smile and his eyes glimmering with excitement, the boy led Maggie away from the lake and to a more secluded place in front of a small stream, where they sat at the feet of a big oak tree.

Alfred started telling her about a Harry Potter marathon he had had the previous winter with Kiku, Ludwig, Feliciano and Feliciano’s reluctant brother, and Maggie found herself relaxing completely as she listened to his lively words, her eyes mesmerized by the boy’s face.

The sun cast a golden hue on his hair and accentuated the warm tone of his skin and the bright cornflower blue of his eyes. Maggie found incredible how they could glimmer with enthusiasm with each word he said, how the boy’s smile could be always so bright and welcoming. Alfred was a summer’s child, she found herself thinking. Bright and lively, as warm as the sun.

Her thoughts and Alfred’s words were abruptly cut off when a volleyball slammed against Alfred’s head from behind. Maggie jumped to her feet with a gasp as the ball rolled away.

“Alfred, are you okay?!”

“Ouch…” the boy stood up slowly, rubbing the back of his head. “What was that…”

“Sorry!”

Three children emerged from the trees, panting as they reached the two teens.

“I’m really sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to hit you!” said one, looking at Alfred with wide green eyes. “I didn’t think I had kicked that strong!”

Maggie instinctively took a step closer to the boy, worried by his evident concern, but Alfred was quicker.

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it’s nothing.” He chuckled, ruffling the child’s chestnut brown hair. “Just be more careful next time, ‘kay? You’re quite strong!”

The boy seemed to calm down, his tense shoulders relaxing as he hesitantly smiled back.

“Wait, don’t do that, you might fall!” Alfred shouted suddenly, diverting his eyes from the child in front of him.

Maggie turned to follow his gaze and found the two other children in front of the stream, precariously balanced on a stone as they tried to reach the lost ball with a branch.

With a few strides, Alfred got to their side, and, thanks to his long legs, he effortlessly tiptoed over three half-submerged boulders to retrieve the ball. With a wink, he threw it back to the children.

“Come on, go back to play. Just be more careful next time!”

The children nodded fervently before running away as they started whispering something between each other, occasionally glancing back at Alfred and Maggie.

“Thank you so much, sir!” they said before disappearing among the threes, waving.

Maggie stepped closer to Alfred.

“You’re good with children.” She murmured.

That was probably to be expected, she realized as the thought about Alfred’s energic personality - children tended to love that. Back in Canada, Maggie had often babysat for the neighbours to earn some money, but with her quiet personality, she had always found quite difficult to manage more than two or three children together - something that wouldn’t be a problem for Alfred.

“I like children,” the boy declared, further proving her theory. “They’re so innocent and they get hyped up about everything… I love how you can make them have fun with anything if you have the right attitude. Yes, they’re loud and messy, and so what? They’re children! I can’t stand people who complain about it. Just let them have fun while they can!”

Maggie’s lips curved into a slight smile. Alfred was almost describing himself.

“And I have some experience, anyway. Sometimes I babysit my cousin and his brother. They’re seven and six and a pain in the ass, but if you get behind the cheeky attitude they’re adorable.”

Alfred features had softened while he was talking, the slight smile on his lips had something of tender. In spite of his words, he clearly cared a lot about his little… _‘cousins? …that was a strange way to word it.’_

Maggie bit her lip before she could ask. It was probably just a slip of tongue, after all, and even if it wasn’t she had no right to pry into Alfred’s life.

The boy’s expression shifted again, his smile widening.

“Hey, I almost forgot! Would you like to eat something?”

“Well… thanks but no, I’m fine.” Maggie stammered, taken by surprise. How could Alfred be still hungry? He was a boy, but the amount of food he had inhaled at lunch would have lasted a few days for Maggie…

Her answer, however, was completely ignored.

“Stop being modest! It’s time for a snack, you have to be hungry! Come on, I know the perfect place!”

Tired of waiting, Alfred grabbed Maggie’s right hand and started dragging her through the park.

Maggie blushed heavily. Alfred was talking, describing everything he felt like eating at the moment, but the girl couldn’t focus fully on his words. All of her attention was taken by the warm hand that was clutching hers. It was big, much bigger than Maggie’s, the skin barely hardened, and its hold was almost too strong, but not in an unpleasant way. It _was_ slightly uncomfortable, Maggie wasn’t used to being touched so casually, but at the same time, it felt strangely _safe_.

Without stopping talking or relishing the girl’s hand, Alfred led her to a small café that was right in front of the park and stepped confidently through the door.

Maggie found herself inside a welcoming room with creamy walls covered by pictures of natural landscapes - some had to be shots of the park, she recognized a twisted three, even if in the picture it was covered by snow. Round tables surrounded by cosy armchairs where positioned all over the shiny floor, close enough to cover most of the space available without becoming uncomfortable.

A woman who looked her early thirties stood behind a counter, washing some mugs. She was quite short, probably a bit shorter than Maggie, and slightly plump, her body soft and curvy. Her bowed head was framed by straight light blonde hair, tucked behind the woman’s right ear to avoid covering her face and cut in an even bob that reached her chin, curling slightly inwards.

When the door closed behind Maggie and Alfred, the woman raised her head and beamed at them. Her round face looked tender and welcoming, and it was lit by big lavender eyes framed by long, almost white eyelashes.

“Hey, Tiina! How are you doing? This is Maggie, she just moved here!”

Only then Alfred released Maggie’s hand, gently pushing her in front of him.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Maggie whispered, blushing, forcing herself to keep eye-contact with Tiina.

The woman offered her a kind, motherly smile.

“It’s a pleasure.” her voice sounded warm and musical. “Do you go to school with Alfred? When did you move?”

Before Maggie could answer, two young men walked into the café, greeting politely Tiina.

“Oh, maybe I’ll pass by later to chat a bit,” the woman sighed, “I’m sorry, but Michelle isn’t here today so I’m quite busy… Alfred, why don’t you two go upstairs? I’ll send Berwald in a bit to get your orders.”

As Tiina shifted her attention to the newcomers, Alfred took Maggie’s hand and dragged her through the bar, leading her up a flight of stairs next to the counter.

The teens emerged into a small room that was decorated exactly like the one downstairs, with the exception of the wall, that consisted entirely of a big window.

Maggie hesitantly got closer to the glass and looked down, engrossed in the view. She could see the lake, that was much bigger than she had previously thought, the trees behind and next to it, and, in an emptier space just under the window, she could clearly see some children playing on leaves-covered grass, running as they tried to catch some unfortunate ducks. Maggie was used to much wilder landscapes, but there was something in that scenery lit by the sunrays that gave her a strong impression of tranquillity.

“It’s gorgeous…” she whispered, unconsciously raising a hand to the glass.

“Yeah…”

Alfred’s answer, oddly, was barely above a breathless whisper.

* * *

 

The view from the window wall was gorgeous, Alfred was aware of that. However, it wasn’t what he was staring at.

The light that filtered through the glass basked Maggie’s frame, making her skin look even whiter, almost ethereal. For the first time, Alfred realized that there was a slight hint of freckles over the girl’s cheekbones - barely visible, but they were there. Maggie’s hair glimmered with orange and gold at every wave, her pale lilac eyes seemed to shine as she looked out of the window. Her dark lips were barely curved in a smile, Alfred found himself suddenly wondering how they would feel to the touch. One of Maggie’s slender hands was raised towards the window, her slim fingers almost brushing the glass. Her other arm was holding the coat wrapped tightly around her body, unconsciously putting on display the curves hidden under the baggy clothes. She looked so _frail_ …

Part of Alfred wanted to grab the girl and hold her against him with all the strength he could muster, the other was afraid of even touching her. It was almost like a mere brush of fingers would make her shatter like a glass statue.

Suddenly, Maggie diverted her eyes from the window, and Alfred wasn’t fast enough to pretend he hadn’t been staring at her. A faint blush blossomed over Maggie’s cheekbones as she quickly lowered her head.

Alfred had hardly ever seen something that adorable, and at the same time, he felt a twinge of guilt for having caused her visible uneasiness.

_She’s shy, you shouldn’t be too forward._

The voice in his head was a strange mixture of his father’s and Kiku’s ones. The first had reprimanded him the previous day, right after Maggie had gotten off their car, the latter had expressed the same opinion a few hours earlier.

“Shall we sit down?” Alfred asked, trying to lighten up the tense atmosphere.

Maggie nodded, and the boy found himself staring as she delicately drew out the small armchair and sat down on the edge, her back straight and her hands resting on her knees. Alfred couldn’t help but keep note of how each movement was deliberately delicate and soundless, as if Maggie didn’t even want to disturb the air surrounding her.

During the course of the afternoon, however, she had started to loosen up, she had even talked a little about herself, and Alfred felt incredibly proud of the result.

“So, what do you want?” he asked, opening the menu even if he knew it by heart. “They make wonderful cakes! My favourite is the chocolate cake, I really recommend it!”

Maggie fidgeted on her seat. She looked uneasy again.

“Oh, no, really, I’m fine, I truly ate a lot at lunch…a tea will be enough.”

Alfred frowned.

“You didn’t eat that much!”

The girl’s eating habits worried him. His mind flashed back to the previous afternoon, to Maggie’s bloodless lips and dazed expression before she had collapsed on him, to the way she had progressively leant more and more against him as he had led her to the bench. Alfred was slightly ashamed to admit it, but seeing the girl in that state had made him panic.

_That wasn’t so heroic of me. If Dad hadn’t been there…_

From that moment, Alfred had decided to personally ensure that Maggie would eat all of her meals, and as soon as he had learnt about it Feliciano had turned into his helpful sidekick.

Maggie, however, looked uncomfortable.

“But that plate was huge!” she defended herself, “Feliciano even gave me a second serving… The pasta was delicious, it really was, but I couldn’t swallow even crumble of bread right now…”

Alfred wasn’t persuaded, but Maggie didn’t look like somebody who was about to faint. In spite of being still extraordinarily pale - but Alfred had come to the conclusion that it was her natural complexion - her lips were red and her cheekbones were graced by a faint blush.

“If you are really sure…”

Alfred still couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t eat, however. Maggie certainly didn’t need to restrict her caloric intake, even Alfred could see that: while the girl’s top hung loosely from the shoulders, hiding her frame, a pair of skinny jeans hugged her thin legs, suggesting a slim and slight-boned body. The previous day, Maggie had claimed that she couldn’t eat when she was nervous.

Dad had told Alfred it could happen, and in his firm words, the boy had suddenly understood with overwhelming clarity the reason Francis insisted so much on cooking for them and even having his meals with them when Arthur was stressed: his father wouldn’t eat, otherwise. It had been a strange revelation, that had brought a heavy lump to his throat, but now that he thought about it Alfred could remember numerous occasion in which Arthur would only play with the food instead of eating, only to slide his untouched plate to him. He made a mental note to be warier of those situations, he had never seen his father collapse from the lack of food like Maggie had, and he had no intention of changing that.

In spite of that, it was such a difficult concept to grasp… or maybe Alfred had never been that stressed, but he a hard time coming up with a situation in which somebody _wouldn’t feel like eating_. Food was so wonderful, it always lifted his mood… if anything, people should eat more if they were stressed!

“They have a lot of different teas.” Maggie mused, tearing the boy away from his thoughts.

Alfred found himself smiling at her comment, it was the same thing Dad always praised the little café for… he raised his head from the menu to tell Maggie, but found himself without words, bewitched by the gentleness the girl used was handling the menu with, her fingers so delicate that they barely seemed to touch it.

Before Alfred could find anything to say, the sounds of heavy footsteps alerted the teens of another person’s arrival, and some moments later Berwald emerged from the stairs.

Maggie immediately stiffened, tightening her hold on the menu.

Alfred couldn’t blame her: at a first glance, Berwald looked intimidating. The man was tall and imposing, with a fair complexion, small aqua blue eyes behind a pair of squared glasses and short light blond hair. His features were marred by a permanent frown, and the heavy Swedish accent that sometimes made Berwald's words hard to understand didn’t help with the stern impression. Alfred would refuse to admit it even under torture, but he perfectly remembered the way he had hidden behind Dad’s leg the first time he had met Berwald.

“Nice to meet you, Maggie.” the man said as he approached their table. “I’m Berwald. I hope you’ll feel at home here.”

The girl’s eyes widened as she blushed before answering with a hesitant smile.

“N-nice to meet you too.” she muttered, staring at the man. She looked a little less tense than before.

“Do you already know what you’re having?” Berwald asked.

_‘Straight to the point.’_

Alfred chuckled internally, Berwald had never been good at social interactions.

“A maple-flavoured tea, please.” Maggie murmured immediately.

“Would you like anything to eat?”

Maggie shook her head, blushing.

“Oh, no, thank you very much, I’m not hungry.”

Berwald didn’t comment further and turned to Alfred, who could finally order his coffee and sweets. He could feel his mouth watering at the mere thought.

After informing the teens that their orders would arrive shortly, Berwald stepped away as silently as he had come. Maggie followed him with her eyes. Her posture was more relaxed, she didn’t look intimidated anymore, more like curious.

“I know that he looks like he’s about to murder somebody, but he’s actually a good person.” explained Alfred.

Maggie turned abruptly towards him, blushing slightly at the embarrassment of having been caught staring at Berwald.

“I- I wasn’t thinking he was a bad person.”

Alfred barely managed to catch himself from frowning.

_She’s uneasy again, this isn’t good._

“You know, he scares almost everybody, the first time they meet him. Even Tiina - they’re married - told me that she was creeped out at first, but when she got to know him she realized that’s he’s actually a big softie. I’m not kidding you should see him, he’s always so sweet with her and the children… it’s almost cavities-inducing, I swear.”

Maggie nodded. Alfred couldn’t read her expression, but she was finally starting to relax in the armchair.

“You know them well.” The girl stated, and immediately bit her lower lip as if she had said something wrong.

Alfred beamed at her.

“Yep! They’re Peter’s parents… you know, that cousin of mine I told you about.”

“Oh!”

Maggie’s brow furrowed slightly as looked quizzically at Alfred before lowering her head.

“Half-cousin, actually.” Alfred added, realizing what Maggie’s confusion might be about.

For some reason, the girl seemed hesitant to ask anything personal, as if afraid of offending somebody. Alfred didn’t agree with that concern - he was firmly convinced that there was nothing wrong with asking: after all, it didn’t automatically force the interlocutor to answer - but he could understand that he couldn’t just change her mind all of sudden. For the time being, he was determined to provide Maggie with all the answers to her unsaid questions until the girl would feel comfortable enough to say what she had in mind.

“Berwald and Tiina adopted him, that’s why they look nothing like me or Dad. Erland instead is their natural son, Tiina had been told that she couldn’t get pregnant and they adopted, but she turned out to be pregnant like right after they were told they could get Peter. So, now they have two children. Peter even looks kinda like Dad, you know? He even inherited those Kirkland trademark eyebrows!”

Alfred considered himself lucky to have avoided the curse. He was the only one of the whole extended family, even though it was less evident in his female cousins (but Alistair had laughed and told him that they plucked their eyebrows when Alfred had said that).

Maggie had raised her eyes, but she was blushing slightly again.

Alfred guessed that she had probably noticed Arthur’s eyebrows (it was hard not to), but was too polite to say anything.

Suddenly, the boy realized that he still had to explain Peter’s situation, he was sure that Maggie wouldn’t dare to ask.

“Peter is Dad’s half-sister’s son.” he found himself murmuring, more serious than he usually was.

It wasn’t something Alfred talked about with everybody - even if he wasn’t directly involved, he wasn’t that oblivious not to realize how much his father still suffered.

“You see, Dad’s family…” Alfred shook his head and took a deep breath. “They’re real jerks.”

‘Jerks’ was being kind. Far too kind.

Alfred would never be able to forget the first time he had heard about the other members of the Kirkland family. He was about four years old, it wasn’t a long time after his mother’s death, and should have been under Francis’s supervision as Arthur made some phone calls. Francis, however, was fresh from a few all-nighters to finish his last manuscript, and merely a few minutes from the beginning of the movie chosen by Alfred he had fallen asleep, snoring softly, leaving the child free to move as he pleased. As any four-years-old worthy of his name, when Alfred had heard Arthur rise his voice and scream at the phone he had decided to investigate. The door to Arthur’s study had been left ajar, the child had managed to open it just as his father had ended the call, violently hanging the phone. Alfred had seen his father slide down against the wall, burying his head in his hands as he sobbed violently.

Alfred could still perfectly recall how his chest had constricted in fear: a grown-up wasn’t supposed to cry that way. The child had lingered at the doorway, not knowing what to do, then he had come to a realization: Arthur didn’t have a Dad who could cradle him in his arms and rock him as he cried. So, Alfred had acted. Without a second thought, he had slipped into the room and hugged Dad with all the strength his small arms could muster. Arthur had stiffened for a single moment as his surprised, red-rimmed eyes had focused on his son. _“Oh, Alfred…”_ he had whispered then, reciprocating the hug as he started sobbing even louder than before. Francis had found them like that, still hugging, at least an hour later.

Right then, the explanation had been quite vague: Francis had said something about how Arthur’s parents were bad people, just like villains from fairy tales, so Arthur had had run away, but sometimes those bad people tried to get back into his life. Alfred had immediately declared that he would protect his Dad: he didn’t want to see him cry anymore. Francis had simply smiled.

Alfred had become aware of how conservative and stern the Kirkland family was only several years later. They had never looked favourably upon Arthur’s relationship with a hard-working but orphan American girl, they had always treated it as a joke, and when Amelia had gotten pregnant and Arthur had decided that he wanted to marry her instead of convincing her to get an abortion they had basically disowned him. Amelia hadn’t even taken his surname - and neither had Alfred, even if he suspected that it was more out of spite from Arthur than a real prohibition from his family.

Alfred had never met his grandparents. Arthur was still in contact with his three older brothers, but having to keep it secret had put a considerable strain on their already not optimal relationship. Alfred rarely saw Alistair, the eldest of the Kirkland brothers and the one with a bigger freedom of movements, since he was divorced from his wife and their daughter lived with her. He had met Connor and Dylan only once, but he had never even talked to his cousins, all he had were pictures. (actually, Alfred had never felt particularly like meeting them. According to Alistair, they were a bunch of spoiled and whiny brats. Alfred was happy with knowing his _second_ cousins, who came from the Australian and basically banished branch of the Kirkland family and were a completely different matter.)

A heavy silence enveloped the two teens after Alfred had finished talking.

“I’m sorry,” Maggie said in the end, “This… this is horrible.”

She was pale, she almost looked like she was forcing herself to restrain the tears.

A pang of regret went through Alfred’s stomach. He didn’t know why he had told her all of that, he didn’t do it often, but for some reason, he had thought that Maggie would be able to understand.

“I hate them,” he found himself saying vehemently. “You know, all this barely even touches me… okay, I’ve never had grandparents, but I haven’t even really missed them. It’s just that… Dad tries to hide it, I know that he does, but he still hurts so much, even after so many years. And I can’t even imagine how it was for him when Mom died, I barely remember it, but he was basically alone and with a child to raise, his family didn’t move a single finger to help him…”

Alfred forced himself to draw a deep breath and put his hands flat on the table, trying to calm himself.

_Wow, great job! I’m certainly putting her at ease right now…_

He had only meant to explain to Maggie about Peter, but there was a reason he never talked about it… he hadn’t meant to grow so overheated.

A small hand landed on his, so delicate that he could barely perceive the touch. It was cold, but somehow oddly comforting.

Alfred raised his head, taken aback.

Maggie, looking as surprised as he was, blushed violently and tried to retract her hand, but Alfred grabbed it, preventing her from moving.

“Thank you.” He said, smiling softly.

He had meant to be the one comforting her, but how the tables had turned… it was so _odd_. Alfred never talked about those things with his friends, they all had their problems and he didn’t like to dwell on the negative, but somehow, talking to a near-stranger had made him lighter than he could imagine.

Maggie gaped at him for a few moments, then her hand relaxed in his hold.

“I… I can’t even imagine how terrible it must be.” she muttered, lowering her eyes. “I’ve never met my grandparents, either, but it was something more like… I don’t even know, actually. My grandfather died when Mama was seventeen, and my grandmother… You know, everything was kind of a mess. She hadn’t wanted Mama to go to France for a semester, she thought that she was too irresponsible, and when Mama came back pregnant it was as if she had just proved her right. I know that they argued a lot, my grandmother wanted Mama to get an abortion… from what I know, when my grandmother realized Mama wasn’t going to change her mind she tried to step back from her position, but Mama couldn’t forgive her and she just moved away. My grandmother died when I was seven. Aneurysm. Mama was devastated… she hadn’t even talked to her after their argument, but I know that she would have done anything to apologize if she could…”

Maggie’s voice trailed off.

Her fingers, intertwined with Alfred’s, were trembling slightly. The boy gave them a gentle squeeze, but he felt frozen.

“And your Mom told you all this?” he blurted out, unable to hide his concern. “To… to a child? She told you that… that her mother would have wanted you to be dead?”

Maggie tilted her head to a side, just like she had done the day before when Alfred had expressed his displeasure at her mother’s behaviour.

“Well, this is what happened. And… your father told you that too, didn’t he?”

Alfred found himself shaking his head.

“No, not Dad. I found out on my own that my grandparents had offered money to my Mom to have an abortion, and uncle Alistair confirmed it when I asked him. Dad got really mad at him for telling me.”

Alfred had found it an exaggerated reaction at the time, he was annoyed by the way his father tried to keep him from the truth as if he couldn’t handle it - for how much it might hurt, it was still the truth. Ignoring it wouldn’t make it any less real.

Yet, at that moment, looking at Maggie’s confused, innocent face, Alfred could almost understand why his father hadn’t wanted him to know. The thought of Maggie knowing that somebody might have preferred her not to exist brought acid bile to the back of his throat - and most likely, his father thought the same about him.

But Maggie was uncomfortable again, the boy realized suddenly. Her free hand was clenched into a fist, her back completely straight.

“Sooo, some messed up families we have, don’t we?” Alfred declared after clearing his throat, beaming at Maggie.

His words managed to elicit a small smile from the girl, and her hand relaxed. She didn’t look truly amused, but Alfred supposed it would have to do for the moment.

Suddenly, he realized that he had never actually explained what he had meant to.

“Anyway, back to Peter… Dad found out about him five years ago.”

Long story short, Henry Kirkland wasn’t exactly as proper and irreproachable as he showed himself to the world: while he presented himself as a perfect businessman, descendant of an old aristocratic family, a stern but caring husband and father, the man was carrying on an affair with a secretary of his, a stunning young woman named Jane. The affair had gone on for a while, until Jane, made bold by the man’s attention, had started demanding more. She had been fired on the spot, and Henry Kirkland, as arrogant and over-confident as only a man in his position could be, hadn’t spared her another thought.

One year later, Jane had appeared before him, with a little girl of four months and a DNA test that proved undeniably Henry Kirkland’s paternity. To avoid the scandal and sweep everything under the rug, Jane had been paid profusely, and for nineteen years she had been able to guarantee her daughter Mary almost a luxurious life. Then Jane had died after a fulminant leukaemia.

Alfred still didn’t know exactly what had happened then - Arthur had been irremovable when refusing to tell him - but Mary had found herself completely alone. Soon, the money left after paying for her mother’s medicines had been over, and Mary had ended up on the streets. About one year later she had given birth to a child, Peter, of an unknown father, who had been immediately put up for adoption.

Two years later, Arthur had found out about his half-sister existence. Once again, Alfred didn’t know how it had happened, only that his uncle Alistair was involved, and, since Jane and Mary had been living in America to further prevent any scandal, he had immediately contacted Arthur. Alfred had been ten years old at the time, and he had been kept unaware of everything, but even with his chronical inability to read the atmosphere he had managed to perceive the tension that was eating up his Dad from the inside as he looked for his half-sister.

When he and Alistair had finally found Mary, it had been too late: the woman had died three months before in an alley of New York, after a heroin overdose (clearly, Alfred had had only a vague hint of that at the time. He had discovered the detail years later, listening to a phone call between Arthur and Alistair because Arthur hadn’t heard him get into the house). After that, Arthur and Alistair had started frantically looking for Mary’s son, only to discover that he had been already adopted by a newly-wed couple, Tiina Väinämöinen and Berwald Oxenstierna. The two lived in the same city as Arthur, who had contacted them, offering help to take care of Peter, and since then they had stayed in contact.

“Clearly, Peter doesn’t know anything about this. I mean, he knows that he’s adopted, but not that we are related.” Alfred smiled sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. “Well… actually, I might have possibly let it slip that I’m his cousin… you know, I’ve been babysitting him basically since I found out about everything, and I might have called him ‘cousin’ by mistake… but he never seemed to notice, he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed…”

Alfred’s voice trailed off.

Maggie was staring at him, her eyes wide on her pale face. As he talked, her fingers had tightened their hold around Alfred’s hand, but she probably hadn’t realized it.

“Oh…” she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. She looked like she didn’t quite know what to say, but she was clearly shaken.

Once again, Alfred had to berate himself for his talkativeness. He hadn’t certainly meant to upset Maggie, he should have known that telling her everything would have that effect… but originally, he hadn’t meant to say so much. It was just so easy to talk to Maggie… It wasn’t like Alfred usually had any qualm with talking, but the girl in front of him was something completely different. She looked like she _understood_ , like she was able to grasp what lay behind his seemingly careless words.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t want to scare you. And I don’t want compassion or anything, really, I just wanted to…  I don’t know…”

 _Let you feel welcome by opening up with you,_ Alfred had meant to say, but he suddenly realized that it sounded _stupid_ , even more considering that he didn’t actually even know why he had revealed so much more than he had meant to.

_Did I need to vent so badly?_

Alfred had never thought so, but somehow, after telling Maggie, he was feeling considerably lighter.

_Oh well…_

Maggie nodded, but her forehead was still slightly creased.

“I… I’m sorry.” she whispered.

Alfred shrugged, suddenly feeling a pang of guilt at the concern so clearly visible in the girl’s features.

“Nah… You don’t have to worry, really. I might have been a tad overdramatic earlier, but it’s not as bad as it might look like. Berwald and Tiina are wonderful parents, and Peter’s happy, and that’s what really matters, isn’t it?”

He had intentionally avoided mentioning Mary, Jane, or the hypocrisy and lies the Kirkland’s family was built upon, but Maggie clearly hadn’t forgotten. Even though she nodded slowly at his words, she didn’t manage to completely hide the concern shining in her lilac eyes.

“You really don’t have to worry, okay?” Alfred went on, “The thing is… yeah, the Kirklands are horrible, but does it really matter? Dad got out, and he’s here. He’s a good person, and I won’t claim that it’s always easy, but he’s mostly happy, you know?” Kind of. Well, Alfred really hoped he could be. “I’m fine, and I grew up surrounded by wonderful people, and so did Peter. Yeah, it’s not perfect, but when is it? You can’t have everything. We’re here and we’re doing what we can, isn’t it what matters?”

Maggie nodded slowly. Her eyes had never strained from his face. Alfred saw her chew on her lower lip, swallowing as her hand stiffened slightly into his.

“That’s… a very brave way of seeing it.” She muttered in the end, and immediately lowered her eyes, clearly panicked.

“Ah! Sorry, I know I’m intruding in stuff I shouldn’t a-and…”

Alfred interrupted the girl, squeezing her hand.

“Thank you.” He said earnestly.

He was surprised by Maggie’s words, people usually didn’t frame his apparently thoughtless behaviour as ‘brave’. They said that he was ditzy, that he couldn’t understand. Of course, Alfred didn’t need their validation, but… sometimes, being understood was _nice_. Very few people had immediately realized that staying positive was a c _hoice_. Maggie was an interesting girl, that was for sure.

Before the boy could say something else, a pair of heavy steps thumped on the stairs, followed a moment later by Berwald’s frame.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long,” the man said as he reached the teens, “There are a lot of people downstairs, it’s a bit messy.”

“No problem, dude!” Alfred answered immediately, eyeing the approaching food. His mouth had started watering at the sight of that big, soft slice of cake.

Berwald set the plates on the table, starting with Maggie’s tea, but Alfred barely heard her soft ‘thank you’, his mind completely taken by his own food. He managed to shove a couple of bites into his mouth before realizing that there was a plate of cookies on the table.

“Eh… Sorry, we didn’t actually order these…” Alfred heard Maggie murmur, and raised his head to see her blushing as she looked apologetically at Berwald.

Berwald shrugged.

“These are on us. Welcome.”

The man retreated before Maggie could answer, leaving the girl wide-eyed from the surprise.

“He shouldn’t have…” she muttered, realizing that Alfred was looking at her.

The boy shrugged, bringing his attention back to his food.

“Why not? He wanted to do it. I told you he’s nice.”

His words didn’t seem to quell Maggie’s uneasiness. That was something Alfred had started noticing about her, part of what made her so odd: her apparent unwillingness to accept any favour. It didn’t seem to come from pride, however, maybe it had more to do with her being shy – either way, it was quite sad. Alfred didn’t know Maggie well yet, but she was such a nice girl… and pleasant to be around, too.

He offered her a bright smile before shoving another bite of cake in his mouth. Shyness or something else, Alfred was going to take care of her, that was for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiina is Nyo!Finland  
> Erland is Ladonia  
> Michelle is Seychelles (I was undecided between Michelle and Angélique, but I settled for Michelle because it's a name that is used in both English and French, and given her history I think it suits her better. Besides, writing Angélique correctly every time is a pain.)  
> Alistair is Scotland  
> Connor is North Ireland  
> Dylan is Wales  
> The Australian relatives mentioned by Alfred (his second cousins) are Australia (Kyle), New Zealand (Zach) and Wy (Wendy). Actually, their mother is from New Zealand but they live in Australia. They're the grandchildren of an uncle of Arthur's who moved to Australia and married an Australian girl (getting essentially banned from the family in the process).  
> The other members of Arthur's family are all OCs.
> 
> Sorry this was such an exposition chapter, I just wanted to make some things clear about Alfred and Arthur and that mess, and Arthur’s background plays a key role in his actions, so… I just hope that this was’t too boring.
> 
>  **EDIT:** since I was asked this (and I can see how it can be easily misunderstood), this ISN'T going to be FrUK, they're simply good friends. Sorry for not making this clear earlier.
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you liked it and please leave some feedback!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Uhm… this took a while, but I’m finally back. Thanks a lot to all the people who showed interest in this story, especially those who commented!  
> Since it took so long, I didn’t divide this chapter into two parts as I had initially planned, but cut something and left it together. It’s still extremely long, though.
> 
> **Warnings: **This chapter is going to have some violence, but I don’t think it’s graphic.  
> ****  
>  I know nothing about hockey, and English isn’t my first language. I apologize for the mistakes.
> 
> I hope you’ll enjoy!

Maggie forced herself to take a deep breath, rubbing her hands together. When she exhaled, the air came out in a white puff around her lips. The cold was seeping from her extremities into her bones, making her shiver, but she knew that it wasn’t only the temperature of the ice rink.

The figures on it had stopped playing and were disbanding, some of them inching towards the changing room. Maggie had been positively impressed by the team: some players, like Tolys and Raivis, looked a bit too hesitant, but they all were quite competent, some even outstanding.

And then there was Ivan, who was clearly miles apart from everybody else. Ice seemed to be his second nature, Maggie had seen him glide effortlessly, fluid and strong. Each of his movements looked perfectly controlled, he had completely dominated the field. Maggie would have paid anything to play with him - and she would be able to, if she played her cards right.

Ivan raised his head, his bright purple eyes slowly scanned the stands before stopping right on Maggie. There was a slight smile on his slip as he slowly inclined his head. He was probably merely curious, but to Maggie’s anxious mind, his expression looked almost predatory.

_Come on, stop being a pussy. It’s now or never._

Maggie stood on shaky legs and finally approached the rink, where Tolys was waiting for her, his forehead furrowed in apprehension.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Maggie lied, putting on her helmet as she slid on the ice.

As she had agreed with Ivan, after school the girl had stopped by the ice rink to see the hockey practice. The team was composed of ten people, of whom Maggie already knew Tolys and Raivis, and Alfred had told her about Lukas and Emil, a junior and a freshman who were half-brothers and cousins of Tiina.

There were only two girls, both seniors - they slid past Maggie just at that moment, heading towards the changing room. Maggie had been introduced to them earlier, and both had apologized because they couldn’t stay later.

 “Good luck.” Murmured Louise, a tall, lean girl. Her black eyes showed a spark of curiosity as they seemed to inspect Maggie for the second time, but she said nothing more.

The second girl, Dana, simply offered Maggie a smile and a nod of her head as she took off her helmet, shaking her shoulder-length dark brown hair out of the ponytail. She was a bit shorter than Louise, her body curvier and stockier.

Dana and Louise had a completely different body type, actually, comparing them wouldn’t have been correct, but they _did_ have one thing in common: they were considerably taller than Maggie, and they looked strong and healthy. Maggie could understand even more Tolys and Alfred’s concern - yet, they had never seen her play.

The coach, Eduard, skated closer to Maggie.

“Are you sure that you want to do this?” he asked as his green eyes swept over the girl. He had been clearly surprised by Maggie’s request and Ivan’s choice to give her a chance, but he had agreed without complaining too much.

“She already said that she was.” Ivan answered for her, skating closer. “Shall we start?”

Maggie could only nod, the lump in her throat so big that she didn’t think she could have managed to utter a single word.

Eduard moved away. The seconds seemed to protract into centuries, but finally, the whistle blared in Maggie’s ears.

_Now it’s up to me._

The girl took a deep breath as she forced her mind to empty. There were no insecurities, no time to second-guess her choices: the only thing that mattered was the game. She only had to think about the ice sliding under her skates, the stick in her hands, the puck and the net.

Maggie hadn’t played in ages. She had almost forgotten how free it made her feel, the inebriating rush of adrenaline that washed over her. On earth, Maggie was shy, almost clumsy, but on ice… on the ice, there was no choice but _moving_. Everything she had to be careful about vanished when she was playing. She could be brash, violent, because for once, that was what was expected of her.

In the beginning, the boys seemed to have underestimated Maggie, they were clearly trying to restrain themselves, careful not to hurt her, but that changed quickly.

Maggie’s eyes landed on Ivan’s face as his lips curled into a smile. His eyes shone with a mixture of determination and surprise.

Maggie reciprocated with a small smile of her own.

_Good, don’t try to hold back. I certainly won’t._

* * *

 

Alfred didn’t think that he had ever hit the showers so quickly after practice.

“For fuck’s sake, Jones, careful with that shampoo! Are you trying to blind me?!” Trevor yelled after a squirt accidentally hit him.

“Sorry I gotta go!” was all Alfred could answer as he frantically spread the soap over his body.

“Geez, Al, calm down!” grumbled Mikkel, “There’s nothing to be worried about, Ivan won’t kill her!”

Alfred ignored him, more focused on finishing showering as fast as he could. For the first time in his life, he hadn’t been able to focus fully on the game, his mind occupied by the horrifying knowledge that Maggie was going to have her hockey try-out - that meant, facing off against Ivan. Alfred didn’t even want to think about what that could imply, yet his mind kept running through the worst scenarios: he would see flashes of Maggie crumpled on the ice, bleeding, her frail bones breaking as hulking boys slammed her against the boards…

“What’s up?” Sean asked, “What’s with Braginsky?”

“Must be about the new girl,” Jordan answered in Alfred’s place, “I heard she wanted to try out for the hockey team… Jones, why are you even worrying about her?”

Alfred didn’t bother with an answer, dashing instead out of the showers.

“New girl?” he heard Trevor’s voice ask, “I didn’t know there was a new girl in your grade. She hot?”

“If you’re into that, I guess,” Jordan answered promptly, “She’s the girl-next-door type… and ridiculously shy, too. Beautiful, yeah, I guess so, but hot? Nah. She’s more like the girl you just have a look at from afar. And she’s too skinny, anyway.”

“But I bet she has a nice pair of boobs under those baggy shirts.” Chimed in Rob.

Jordan snorted.

“Yeah, maybe. But honestly, she looks like she would wear a purity ring. She’s the kind of girl you bring home for Thanksgiving, not one you can have fun with. She’s not worth it, Jones!”

Alfred gritted his teeth to refrain from answering too brusquely.

“This might be news to you, but it’s not like you gotta bang any girl you talk with!” he yelled back as he tied his shoes.

Hearing his teammates talk about Maggie that way, like she was some kind of object on display, made his stomach churn, but at least none of them were interested in her.

_Their loss._

Alfred couldn’t honestly say that he minded - and anyway, he had other things to worry about.

“See you on Saturday!” he yelled as he put on his jacket dashed out of the dressing room, without even worrying to dry his hair.

As promised, Ludwig and Feliciano were waiting for him in the parking lot, already sitting inside Ludwig’s car.

“I think you’re exaggerating.” the German boy grumbled as soon as Alfred jumped into the car, but the boy was too anxious to worry about his words.

He had made Tolys promise to call if something happened, but so many things could go wrong… Alfred knew that the grip clenching his chest wouldn’t loosen until he saw with his own eyes that Maggie was truly fine.

“She probably won’t even truly play,” Ludwig muttered as he turned on the car. “They’re not throwing her in the middle of a match, they’ll probably just have her do some exercises and see if she’s anything good…”

Alfred groaned.

The issue had been the main topic of the discussion in their WhatsApp group the entire previous evening, until Lovino, coming back from work to 742 unread messages, had gotten mad and threatened to tell everybody’s parents that they were still on the phone instead of sleeping.

In spite of that, Ludwig clearly hadn’t grasped the severity of the situation.

Luckily, Feliciano was on Alfred’s side.

“But...” he muttered, wringing his hands. “But Maggie’s so small and thin… she could get really hurt if she fell.”

Ludwig sighed.

“Didn’t you say she’s been playing since she was little? She must be good on ice, I don’t think she would just randomly fall…”

“This isn’t the point!” Alfred interrupted him, tilting towards the front seat as if his motion could somehow help the car go faster. “The point is that she’s playing against some fucking tanks! There’s Braginsky! Braginsky, do you understand me?! He won’t have any mercy, he won’t hold back just because Maggie’s so small and sweet, I _know_ it, he’ll smash her against the boards or he will fall on her and she’ll break something, and he’s so much heavier than she is, he could break her ribs… and oh Jesus what if they puncture a lung?!”

“Alfred!” Ludwig roared. His hands were holding the steering wheel so tightly that it almost looked like he was about to tear it off. “If you don’t shut your mouth right now, I swear I’ll turn back and drive you straight home!”

Alfred turned to a sullen silence. He wanted to object to Ludwig’s words, but the risk that he might actually carry out his threat was too high.

“Punctured lungs?!” Feliciano’s voice sounded an octave higher than usual. “Does it… does it really happen at hockey?”

Ludwig let out a long, exhausted sigh. He looked like he wanted to hit his head against the steering wheel, but, being the driver, he couldn’t afford to do it.

“Not often, Feli, and anyway, only in professional matches at high levels.” He answered, shooting at the same time Alfred a death glare through the rear mirror. “And it surely won’t happen to Maggie, they’re just letting her try, it’s not even a real game!”

In spite of his hesitant nod, Feliciano didn’t look convinced. His eyes were round and wide open, and he was chewing on his lower lip.

Alfred opened his mouth to retort, but Ludwig guessed his intention through the rear mirror and shot him such a mean glare that the boy found himself frozen on the spot.

A heavy silence fell inside the car. Alfred started drumming his fingers against his thighs, too tense to stay still. He knew that the ice rink was only a few minutes away, but the hockey practice started and ended half an hour earlier than the football one and the car seemed to be moving with maddening slowness, every traffic light was against them, and Alfred’s stomach was churning at the thought of what might be happening to Maggie. Alfred didn’t even know her that well yet, but the thought of Maggie getting hurt was unbearable - and that was a frighteningly probable scenario, taking into consideration the girl’s timid demeanour.

Finally, Ludwig slowed down as he drove into the parking lot next to the ice-rink.

Alfred jumped out of the car while it was still in motion, ignoring Feliciano’s gasp and Ludwig’s reproach. Without waiting for the older boys, he dashed through the parking lot and got directly into the building, jumping two steps at a time.

When the rink came into view Alfred was out of breath, with the blood pounding in his ears, but he didn’t let that stop his descent to reach the seats closest to the ice as he simultaneously tried to spot Maggie.

The scene that presented itself in front of his eyes wasn’t what Alfred was expecting: his panicked mind was conjuring blood, screams… instead, the ice rink looked completely peaceful. The players seemed to have just finished their match and they were all converging towards the centre.

Finally, just as he let his body slump on a bench next to Natalya (he vaguely registered the girl glaring at him in what looked like disgust, but he had no energies to react to it) Alfred’s eyes glimpsed a slenderer, smaller frame among the boys.

The wave of relief that washed over Alfred was so intense that he had to grab the sides of the bench as support, his head spinning.

_Maggie’s fine. She’s fine._

The girl was standing, looking completely unharmed. She was talking to Ivan, who at that moment took off his helmet. Alfred could see a glimpse of a smile on his face - it didn’t look as cruel as he would have expected, however, it was more like a mixture of pleased surprise and genuine satisfaction.

As Eduard skated to join them, Maggie took off her helmet as well, shaking off the long plait she had tied her hair in as she ran a hand through her bangs. Even from that distance, Alfred could see that her cheeks and lips were reddened by the effort, but she was smiling faintly with a confidence that the boy had never seen on her.

Confused, Alfred turned towards Natalya, who was staring at the scene with a seemingly detached expression. Only a slight tightening around her eyes betrayed her attention.

“Looks like Maggie _does_ know how to play hockey, after all.” She declared, a hint of begrudging respect in her voice that made Alfred even more eager to know what had transpired.

“I _told_ you it was going to be all right.” Commented Ludwig’s deep voice. Alfred turned to see he and Feliciano reach his position.

“And…?” he asked Natalya, bringing his attention back to the rink - he could see that Maggie was talking to Eduard and Ivan, shrugging and shaking her head in what seemed embarrassment, but he was too far away to make out any word or understand what they were talking about.

“She’s good.” Natalya finally answered, without moving her eyes from the scene. “Impressively good. I think that only Vanya is better than she is.”

That wasn’t the answer Alfred had been expecting. Maggie looked far too shy and hesitant to be a good player, for how much he tried, Alfred couldn’t connect the picture of the timid girl who now seemed to be blushing in embarrassment with that of a hockey player, and he could see the same surprise reflected in Ludwig’s furrowed features. However, for how strange it might have been, that wasn’t his main concern.

“She didn’t get hit, did she?” he asked anxiously.

Maggie seemed to be standing straight, at ease on her skates, but some injuries could be hard to spot…

Much to Alfred’s surprise, Natalya snorted.

“Yes, she did. It’s hockey, what were you expecting? But she also hit back far more than she got hit, actually. She’s very quick and she has an excellent control. And she doesn’t seem to have issues with playing violently if needed, too. I don’t understand her.”

Alfred turned to Natalya, his jaw hanging open. What Natalya had described didn’t sound like Maggie at all… before he could ask her to elaborate, a loud cheering sound erupted from the rink. Alfred’s head snapped back to see that the players were moving, skating out of the rink as they chattered loudly - and with them was Maggie, who got several pats to her back before reaching the exit of the rink.

Biting back all his questions, Alfred jumped up from the bench, rushing to reach Maggie before she could get into the girl’s changing room. She didn’t seem to hear Alfred when he called her, but his voice attracted some of the male players, whose changing room was closer.

Tolys immediately moved towards him, hopping as he struggled to take off his skates. His cheeks were reddened by the cold, a smile painted on his lips.

“There was nothing to worry about.” He started saying, slightly out of breath. “I wasn’t expecting this, but she’s… incredible.”

Alfred could only nod, his brain still too dazed by relief to come up with an answer of sense.

“It’s… very odd.” Ivan mused as he stepped right behind Tolys, making the younger teen start. “When I talked to her I thought she wouldn’t last a second on the ice… instead, she’s completely ruthless. And as soon as we finished, she started apologizing for checking me. Almost double personality… Anyway, I didn’t think you were interested in hockey, Jones.”

In spite of the pleasant smile curving the corner of Ivan’s lips, the glint in his eyes looked almost sinister. Alfred found himself frowning, the surprise at the boy’s words swiftly replaced by annoyance.

“We only came to see how Maggie was doing.” Intervened Ludwig, moving to stand next to Alfred.

“Mmh?” Ivan muttered with a clearly mocking intonation that made Alfred’s blood boil.

“She’s a friend of mine. I don’t see what’s wrong.” He declared, folding his arms across his chest.

_Let’s make things clear. If you try to touch her, there’ll be hell to pay._

Ivan’s grin got wider as he tilted his head to a side.

“From where I stand, it looks more like you didn’t think she would be good enough, Jones. How do you feel now that you know she doesn’t need your protection? What will you do, now that you can’t use her to fuel your ego?”

Alfred froze for a moment as the words washed over him, his pulse quickening.

_That fucking bastard!_

His hands automatically curled into fists as Ivan kept smirking at him, inviting him to hit.

Alfred took a deep breath, tensing, but before he could do anything Eduard’s voice tore through the tense silence.

“Tolys, Ivan, what are you doing? Go get changed, we’ve already occupied the rink longer than we should have.”

Ivan offered Alfred another small smirk before obeying, and Tolys followed short, casting a pleading glance behind his shoulders.

 _“Don’t make a scene.”_ He seemed to be saying, but without Ivan taunting him Alfred’s temper was already cooling down.

“What were you trying to do?” Ludwig hissed as soon as the two boys were out of hearing range. “I thought that you were past picking fights with Ivan. For God’s sake, Alfred, you know that he was just taunting you, you shouldn’t listen to him!”

Alfred pouted as he turned towards the older boy.

“But he was…”

“Pointing out what a moronic asshole you are?” Natalya cut in, glowering at Alfred. “You know that my brother was right, Mr ‘Maggie is a little frail porcelain doll and she can’t play hockey or she’ll get hurt’.”

Alfred found himself blushing. He didn’t want to admit it, but now that Ivan was away he could recognize a tendril of truth in those words: while he had meant no harm, he had still grossly underestimated Maggie.

“I just… I wasn’t expecting this, okay?” he tried to defend himself, “I mean…”

“Nobody was expecting this,” Ludwig stated firmly, “Let’s just be happy that Maggie isn’t hurt and she’s actually good at this and stop arguing. Alfred, Feli, let’s go. I’ll drive you home.”

“But we have to congratulate with Maggie!” Feliciano protested immediately, preceding Alfred.

Ludwig sighed, clearly aware that he was fighting a losing battle as Alfred nodded in assent. Natalya frowned at that, but she seemed to have lost interest in the discussion and started walking towards the male changing rooms, waiting for her brother.

Alfred didn’t try to stop her, his thoughts were once again starting to converge towards Maggie.

“I wish I could have seen her,” He sighed, “If she’s really as good as they said… It’s unexpected, of course, but there is some sort of… controlled grace in the way she moves. She clearly has a good control of her body, you know…”

Alfred kept mindlessly ranting improbable theories as the two other boys listened to him, Feliciano nodding with enthusiasm.

Finally, Maggie emerged from the changing rooms. Her hair was still wet, tied in a knot at the nape of her neck, and she looked exhausted as she struggled with both her school bag and a big gym bag, yet her features were relaxed in what looked like satisfaction.

As soon as she saw the boys she froze, her eyes widening.

Without leaving her enough time to react, Alfred stepped closer and tore the heavy-looking bag from her hands.

“Looks like you made quite an impression.” He commented, winking.

Feliciano was right behind him, enveloping Maggie in a loose hug as Ludwig nodded at her.

The girl stayed still for the whole exchange, blinking owlishly.

“You… you came to see the try-outs?” she asked in the end, confusion clearly written in her features.

“We actually didn’t make it in time.” Answered Alfred, “But yeah, this was the point. It sounded important to you… anyway, everybody told us that you were phenomenal.”

Ludwig let out an evasive grumble.

A twinge of gratitude sparked in Alfred’s chest. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how foolish his fears had been, and he didn’t want Maggie to know how much he had underestimated her, for how justified it had looked like at the moment.

“Of course we did, we were so worried!” chimed in Feliciano, “Alfred thought that Ivan was going to hurt you since you know, you’re so much smaller than he is…”

Alfred barely restrained a groan. Of course, he had forgotten about Feliciano, otherwise known as ‘the mouth of truth’.

Maggie was now looking at him, her eyes even wider. Desperately trying to find the right words to put remedy to his blunder, Alfred offered the girl a sheepish smile, but Feliciano went on talking before he could speak.

“But seriously, aren’t you afraid of getting hurt? I know that this happens with hockey. Why…?”

Maggie shrugged, tilting her head to a side.

“Well, that’s part of the game… I like it. I- I mean, not the getting or hurting people part, I like that you have to be so careful because it could happen. It’s like… you have to give all of yourself completely to the game. You have to be completely in control of everything, or you could get hurt, but at the same time, you don’t have to really worry about it or hurting people, because it’s part of the game. I don’t really know how to explain it, it’s just…”

“Thrilling.” Alfred finished for her, a smile stretching his lips.

He could empathize with Maggie, playing football stirred in him the same feelings, but not many people seemed to understand. Convincing Dad to let him play had been so hard…

Maggie grinned back at him, her eyes shining in the same way they had when she talked about books.

“Liberating.” She answered before noticing Ludwig’s and Feliciano’s quizzical expressions.

“Anyway, thanks a lot for coming.” She muttered, blushing as she averted her eyes.

Just like that, she was back to the shy, apologetic Maggie, but that glimpse of vitality had once again told Alfred that there was much more to her than that. He couldn’t understand her any more than Natalya did, but he wanted to.

“No problem, really.” He declared, “What would you say to an ice-cream?”

His hopes to make Maggie at ease with the change of topic were shattered when the girl shook her head.

“That’s… very nice of you, but I have to go home. I told Steve I was going back after hockey… thank you, but I really can’t.”

Alfred pouted, but Ludwig intervened before he could insist further.

“At least let me drive you home then.”

That was probably for the best. Alfred hadn’t noticed Maggie tense, but she seemed to relax at Ludwig’s words as if Alfred’s request had made her uneasy. Which was… strange, he hadn’t objected to going out with him the previous day, then why…

_‘Her step-father.’_

That had to be the reason, she didn’t want to disobey him.

Nor did she want to accept Ludwig’s favour, probably, she was biting her lower lips, but she was visibly worn out after the try-outs.

“Are you sure that it wouldn’t be a problem?” she asked, fidgeting on her feet.

“Of course not! Come on!” answered Feliciano.

Without giving Maggie time to reply, he turned back and took Ludwig’s arm, starting to drag him outside. Maggie and Alfred had no choice but to follow them.

“I’ll carry this.” Alfred declared as Maggie’s eyes darted to her hockey bag, still in his arms.

The girl offered him a faint, embarrassed smile.

“Oh… thanks a lot.”

Alfred would have wanted to be happy that she had finally accepted a favour, yet a pang of worry crept up over him as he realized how exhausted Maggie looked (which was probably the reason she wasn’t complaining too much). Was that normal? Alfred had just spent nearly two hours on the field, too, but he wasn’t nearly as tired…

The two teens got to the car just right after Ludwig and Feliciano. Alfred immediately sprawled over the seat, while Maggie was sitting straight, her back wasn’t even touching the back of the seat.

“Here.” Feliciano called from the front seat, tossing a towel at Maggie. “Your hair’s still wet, isn’t it? You don’t have to worry about getting the car wet this way.”

The girl blushed as she thanked him, but she slowly relaxed against the seat as Ludwig started driving.

After Ludwig had confirmed her address, Feliciano started chatting. Maggie didn’t intervene, but a small smile slowly tugged at the corners of her lips, letting Alfred understand that she was quite at ease.

Soon, Maggie’s house came into view. It was Friday, which meant that Alfred wasn’t going to see the girl for two days… but letting her spend her first weekend in a foreign country completely alone would have been nothing but cruel.

“Maggie, give me your phone!” Alfred ordered.

Visibly surprised, the girl wordlessly complied his request, looking at him with questioning eyes.

Alfred quickly typed his number and called his own phone before handing the device back to Maggie.

“You have my number now,” He explained, “And I have yours. I’ll call you, ‘kay?”

“Ah… sure. Thanks.” The girl muttered, a slight blush blossoming over her cheekbones.

The surprise clearly written in her features was almost painful to look at - it was almost like Maggie hadn’t even considered that Alfred might want her phone number to keep in contact.

“Hey, can I have your number too?” Feliciano called, twisting in the front seat.

“Uhm… yeah, of course.” Maggie answered feebly, her eyes wide.

Right at that moment, Ludwig pulled to a stop in front of the girl’s house, making her start.

“But… I should really go now.” She muttered, her brow creasing as she looked at Feliciano, who was still rummaging through his school bag. “Sorry?”

“Don’t worry, I can just give it to him. Anyway, do you want me to…”

Maggie jumped out of the car before Alfred could finish talking, grabbing her bags as she offered him a small smile.

“Thank you so much. For everything.”

“You’re welcome. And it wasn’t a problem.” Ludwig managed to answer before Maggie closed the door.

Maggie smiled and waved goodbye before running to the doorway. Ludwig waited until she had gotten inside before restarting the car, earning a puzzled glance from the girl when she turned to close the door behind her.

“Hey, Al, Luddy.” Feliciano said almost immediately, “How about having lunch all together tomorrow? Lovi said that they don’t have too many reservations, we should be fine. We could invite Maggie, too!”

Alfred’s lips curled into a smile.

“You know what? That’s an awesome idea!”

* * *

Maggie stopped in the hall to take off her shoes and tip-toed into the house, hoping that Steve would be asleep. The TV was on over what sounded like a rugby match, but Steve had yet to make any comment.

“Come on, you fucker, get a move! No, the other way, motherfucker!”

_Nevermind._

Sighing, Maggie hung her coat inside the wardrobe and headed to her room.

“I’m back.” She muttered as she walked past the living room, fervently hoping for Steve to be engrossed enough in the match not to mind her.

The TV was shut off. Clearly, that wasn’t Maggie’s lucky day.

Her stomach clenching, the girl dropped her bags at the bottom of the stairs and hurried into the living room before Steve could find something to complain about.

“Why are you so late? Weren’t your classes supposed to be over a couple of hours ago?”

The man’s voice sounded surprisingly clear. When she timidly raised her head, Maggie’s eyes were met by a pair of unusually alert ones. Even Steve’s skin looked somewhat healthier, his mousy brown hair was tied in a ponytail and his stubble looked less unkempt than usual.

Maggie felt light-headed with relief. _Not drunk_. It was the first time since they had moved.

“I had the hockey try-outs,” She answered in a small voice, “I… I was sure I had told you this morning?”

Steve stared at her for a moment, scrunching his brow. Maggie’s stomach had started coiling with the fear of having been disrespectful when the man’s features smoothened.

“Oh, yeah, I think I remember.” He muttered with a careless wave of his hand. “So? Did they take you?”

Maggie took a deep breath to try calming down her thundering heart. She was being stupid, Steve didn’t even like the idea of her playing, yet he asked her about it… why was she scared when he was being so nice?

“Yes.” She whispered, fidgeting on her feet.

“Well, you’re pretty good, aren’t you?” Steve commented, relaxing on the sofa.

He even offered Maggie a small smile before turning to look for the remote. A moment of silence passed before Steve spoke again.

“Joshua is picking me up in a bit, we have some late work to do. I’ll come back tomorrow after dinner.”

That explained why he was sober, Steve was responsible enough not to get drunk if he had to work.

“Will you be all right?”

Maggie nodded, as it was expected of her. It wasn’t the first time that she was left home alone. No more than one or two nights, typically, but sometimes, Steve’s absences lasted for an entire week. Always with Joshua, and always for work. The pang of guilt that invaded Maggie’s rational mind couldn’t trump how light the news made her feel.

She nodded again, accurately avoiding looking at Steve in the eyes.

“Good. Now, look at me when I’m talking to you. You know the drill: I want to see the house clean when I come back, no surprise parties or friends around or I’ll deal with you, have I been clear?”

In spite of the small smile tugging at Steve’s lips, his voice sounded cold.

“Yes, sir.” Maggie nodded diligently, forcing herself to stay still until Steve turned back to the TV.

“Good.” The man grumbled after some moments, shifting on the sofa in search of a more comfortable position.

Aware of the dismissal, Maggie muttered a quiet _“Have a good weekend,”_ before hurrying to her bedroom and collapsing on the mattress, her heart beating wildly inside her chest.

She couldn’t believe that she had been so lucky, it had been so long since she had seen Steve sober… her entire body was aching after the hockey practice, but there weren’t new bruises to add to her collection, nor was she trembling with Steve’s yells resounding in her ears. That was undoubtedly a good day.

The vibration of her phone made Maggie start. The girl immediately took it from the school bag, her eyes widening with surprise at the sight of the green light that signalled new unread messages.

The sender was marked as _‘The Hero!’_.

A smile softened Maggie’s features as she stared at the screen: there was a single person she could think of that would use that name. She hadn’t thought that Alfred was going to contact her so soon, but on the other hand, she could expect anything from him.

The fact that the boy had shown up at the selections was a clear proof of that, and his genuine concern only cemented the evidence. Warmth blossomed in Maggie’s chest at the recollection.

Quickly, she opened the conversation.

**< ** _Hey_ _Maggie!  
_ **< ** _Tomorrow we’re all invited to Lovi’s restaurant for lunch!  
_ **< ** _U coming, right?_

Maggie’s heart missed a beat. Was she truly invited? That would have been a first. She almost couldn’t believe it… but if it was true, she would be able to see Alfred and the others during the weekend. Maggie’s fingers immediately tapped the keyboard.

 ** _>_** _I’d love to, that’s so nice of you!_  
  **>** But are you really sure that I’m invited too?   
**>** I wouldn’t want to intrude… 

The answer was almost instantaneous.

 ** _<_** _Ofc you’re invited!_  
**<** Feli specified it  
**<** anyway, you got nothing to worry about, everybody’s really nice, I promise!

Maggie hesitated. She didn’t want to intrude on what probably was a lunch between long-time friends, and at the same time, she didn’t want to miss an occasion to spend some time with people her age. It wouldn’t be long before they started ignoring her… And if two of them had invited her, there was probably nothing bad in accepting the invite.

Then there was the fact that Steve, who would have never agreed to that, wouldn’t be home. It would be stupid of Maggie to let that opportunity go to waste…

**_>_ ** _Ok, thanks a lot, then!  
**>** I’ll be glad to come! _

Maggie’s heartbeat quickened as she clicked on the ‘send’ button. It was an awkward answer, and she knew it, but Alfred never seemed to mind her blunders. Once again, she didn’t have to wait long for the answer.

 **<** _Cool!  
_**<** _I’ll pick you up tomorrow at 12 ;)_

And just like that, it was done. It was easier than Maggie would have ever expected, and it left her wondering if interactions were always like that or it was only Alfred, who was admittedly one of the most easy-going people Maggie had ever met.

Steve’s phone rang downstairs. Maggie quickly loosened her hair as she dashed into the bathroom, her eyes darting for the hair-dryer to have an excuse not to go down and greet Joshua, but all she heard was some yells and Steve’s heavy steps approaching the door before closing it with a resolute bang.

The smile on Maggie’s face widened.

He eyes met the reflection on the mirror, and she was surprised to see how lively it looked: her cheekbones were graced by a faint blush, her eyes had a sparkle that, for once, made her look like a real person instead of a faded ghost.

Maggie almost giggled at the sight. She had almost forgotten how it felt like to be _alive_.

Friday evening and Saturday morning had swept by like a dream after that. For the outside, Maggie’s routine might have looked exactly normal - homework, reading curled around Kuma on the bed, and the following morning she had cleaned the house after finishing the homework.

However, everything was different. The mere thought of waiting for something filled Maggie with energy, making every task seem easier. The girl even found herself singing as she cleaned, something she didn’t remember doing since her mother had died.

Dreams, however, always came to an end, and that one did exactly at 11:29, in front of Maggie’s dresser.

The girl stood still, her body enveloped in a towel and her hair in the messy buns she had tied it to avoid getting it wet as she took a quick shower, a stomach-wrenching realization slowly worming its way into her brain: _she had no idea of how she was supposed to dress_.

She didn’t know if it was a classy restaurant or not, nor how everybody else would be dressed… and nobody had ever taught her how to make that kind of choices.

Maggie _did_ own some smart dresses, bought by Steve when he had to bring her to some work-related dinner and didn’t want to disfigure, but they all displayed her figure in a way that made her stomach churn. Maggie certainly didn’t want to show her body that way, her skin was crawling at the mere thought of the mocking stares she would attract…

Her heartbeat only quickened when her phone vibrated from Alfred’s message, who announced that he would arrive shortly.

_No, this cannot go._

Maggie squeezed her fists and forced herself to take a deep breath, glaring at her reflection on the mirror.

  1. _Need. To. Calm. Down._



Alfred wouldn’t probably care about how she was dressed after all, nor would anybody else… it was actually very narcissistic of her to expect them to notice in any way, which meant that she could wear whatever she wanted.

That knowledge calmed Maggie down enough for her to choose a black circle skirt and a loose, long-sleeved red shirt over a white blouse - nothing particularly elegant, but it was still better than what she usually wore for school, so it would be all right.

_…Right?_

The girl managed to keep her cool until after she had tied her hair, and Feliks’s words suddenly came back to her mind. Biting her lower lip, Maggie stared at the reflection on the mirror - a pathetic girl with the face of a child and the disproportioned body of somebody far older than she was.

_I should try to put on some makeup._

She knew how to do it, she had helped her mother sometimes, yet the knowledge of how _visible_ that might make her paralyzed her hands.

In the end, her dilemma was solved by the message that announced Alfred’s arrival.

Maggie immediately ran down the stairs, getting out of the house while she was still trying to put on her coat and close the door at the same time.

A gust of surprisingly cool air hit her, but the girl barely realized it as her eyes fell on Arthur’s car, parked in front of the fence. Alfred was waving at her from the window.

Maggie hurried over the car.

“I hope you didn’t have to wait for too long.” She started saying, slightly out of breath, in the exact instant she opened the rear door. “And thank you for giving me a lift, it’s really kind of you.”

Arthur smiled as he turned on the car.

“No need to thank me, and you’re perfectly on time, poppet. I see that you look better today, I’m glad.”

Maggie blushed at the recollection of their embarrassing meeting.

“And congratulations for yesterday,” the man went on, glancing at her from the rear mirror before bringing his attention back on the road. “Alfred told me you were incredible.”

Maggie’s face heated up even more as she started fidgeting with her hands.

“Th-thank you, but that’s an exaggeration… And Alfred didn’t even see me, anyway…”

“Maggie!” the boy interrupted her, unfastening the belt so he could turn back. “Stop tearing yourself down! Yeah I might not have seen you, but they wouldn’t have taken you on the team if you hadn’t been good. You even impressed Braginsky, he told me so himself! _Braginsky_ , do you understand? Mr ‘I’m an arrogant asshole who thinks the entire world is beneath my consideration’…”

“Alfred!”

Arthur raised his hand from the gear.

Maggie found herself holding her breath, her body paralyzed on the seat, but all that happened was a light tap on Alfred’s head.

“I don’t want to hear another single word if your aim is to insult Ivan. I believe we have already talked at length about why it’s inappropriate, and even if you clearly need a reminder now it’s not the right moment. And put on your seat belt!”

“Ouch!” Alfred protested, but he was simply pouting, Arthur’s touch had been too light to hurt him.

Maggie let out her breath and collapsed against the seat, trying to slow down the frantic pounding of her heart.

She _knew_ that Arthur wasn’t truly going to hurt Alfred, but seeing him raise his hand had been just… too much for her. Too much like Steve. Luckily, nobody seemed to have noticed, Arthur focused on the street and Alfred too preoccupied with glaring at him.

“As you wish…” he grumbled before turning his attention back to the girl. “But Maggie, you must be truly good, I’m not kidding. It’s not easy to impress Braginsky or Nat.”

The name of the other girl brought a spark of surprise, but Maggie still shook her head.

“Are you staying for lunch, Mr Kirkland?” she asked instead, hoping to steer the conversation towards a less embarrassing subject.

Arthur’s eyes darted for a moment at her through the rear mirror.

“No, not this time. But I would have had to drive Alfred anyway, so it’s not a problem. And Arthur is fine, please. I’m not that old.”

Maggie nodded hesitantly. Arthur seemed the kind of person who would appreciate formality, but judging from what Alfred had told her maybe he didn’t like being addressed with his family name… Maggie wouldn’t have blamed him.

“Hey, what did you tell your step-dad?” Alfred asked suddenly, craning his neck to look at the girl.

Maggie gasped, her eyes widening.

“What?”

“Didn’t you tell me that he doesn’t let you out? How did you convince him?”

Maggie’s breath got blocked in her throat. She _had_ told Alfred, but Arthur was in the car as well, she couldn’t…

Alfred, however, didn’t seem to find anything wrong in what he had said. He was just staring at the girl with his huge, innocent eyes, waiting for an answer.

“Oh… Erm…”

Maggie shot a glance at Arthur. From what she could see from the mirror, his expression looked forcefully neutral.

_Oh, to the Hell with this. It’s too late for damage control, anyway._

“Eh… actually, he doesn’t know anything.” She explained in a shaky voice. “He slept out and he won’t be back until this evening, so…”

Alfred chuckled, but it wasn’t his reaction Maggie had been worrying about. While Arthur had raised his eyebrows, the rest of his features didn’t betray any emotion.

“Mmh?” he simply muttered.

Maggie’s stomach was churning, she wanted to cry.

“It-it’s not what it looks like! I mean, I didn’t tell him that I was going out, but I don’t do it often! It’s just that Steve’s overprotective and he doesn’t trust anybody and he doesn’t listen to me but I _really_ wanted to come and…”

“Whoa, calm down!”

Alfred had completely turned from the front seat to lay a hand on her shoulder, his brow furrowed in concern.

Maggie forced herself to take a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” Alfred commented sheepishly, “I shouldn’t have brought it up, I wasn’t thinking…”

“Do you _ever_ , Alfred?” Arthur sighed tiredly, “It’s all right, Maggie. It’s not up to me to judge. However… does he often leave you home alone?”

Maggie shrugged. She couldn’t tell what Arthur was thinking. He should have been angry at her, even more after her panicked answer, but from the way he had talked he seemed to be more bothered by the fact that Steve had left her alone.

“He works a lot,” she tried to defend him, “He doesn’t really have any choice. And in any case, uhm…”

 _‘He knows I wouldn’t do anything bad,’_ she wanted to say, but her actions had just disproved those words.

“It’s not up to me to judge. I’m serious about this, you seem a sensible girl, I’m not surprised that your step-father might trust you enough to leave you alone.” Arthur repeated in a soothing voice. “Is he so determined in not letting you out?”

Maggie was suddenly reminded that he came from a stern family. That could play in her favour.

“He’s not a bad parent, he really isn’t,” she explained hurriedly, “But… he didn’t have an easy childhood, and it’s hard for him to trust people. He thinks I’m still a child, that everybody is out there to hurt me… I never managed to change his mind. It got worse after Mama died. I know that he thinks it’s for my own good, but according to him I should spend all my time closed in my room and never talk to a boy and this time…”

Her voice drifted off.

Maggie had known Alfred only for a couple of days, but he had offered her a taste of everything that up to that moment she had only been able to watch from afar: a group of friends, the thoughtlessness of being teens… she didn’t want to lose it. Not so soon.

Arthur’s hands were clamped over the wheel.

“I see…” he said slowly, “Just… try to stay out of trouble. If something happened to you…”

“Nothing will happen.” Maggie promised quickly, “Thank you, thank you so much, I…”

Arthur shrugged, his lips curling into an amused smile.

“For what? I don’t know anything…”

Maggie finally relaxed against the seat, the lump in her throat loosening. She couldn’t believe she had gotten away with it. She had already been picturing Arthur getting furious at her, wanting to tell Steve, instead he didn’t look angry at all… she couldn’t believe her luck.

“Yeah, that’s it!” cheered Alfred.

“And you should learn when it’s time to shut up. And put the belt back on!” Arthur immediately scolded him, “Seriously…”

“Uhm yeah, I’m sorry about this,” Alfred said as he struggled with his belt, “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble. And I mean, you shouldn’t be… your step-dad sounds like a real ass.”

“Alfred!”

“He’s not!” Maggie retorted immediately, clenching her fists, but she found herself unable to go on. She could understand how exaggerated Steve’s behaviour looked like from Alfred’s point of view.

She suddenly realized that s _he_ would have found it exaggerated as well, had Alfred been at the receiving end. But it was different: Alfred was a boy, and surely more able to take care of himself than she would ever be.

The boy seemed about to retort again, but Arthur quickly changed topic, asking Maggie for her thoughts on the hockey team. Soon, Alfred seemed to forget what the original conversation had been about and started talking about his football team, leaving Maggie with the only task to listen. She was deeply grateful to Arthur for that.

About half an hour later, Arthur pulled over in front of the restaurant.

Maggie was surprised by the view: it looked smaller than she would have thought, and the building looked more homely than elegant, with white walls and a wooden roof, in the middle of a big garden.

“They put tables outside during the warm seasons, but now it’s too cold.” Alfred explained after Arthur had left them.

The boy started a detailed explanation of how the restaurant had changed over the years, leaving Maggie grateful for the fact that she only had to listen. She was starting to feel nauseous, her mind whirling with thoughts: was she dressed appropriately? What if she was out of place?

Alfred opened the door, and the two teens were immediately greeted by Feliciano’s voice.

“Alfred, Maggie! I’m glad that you’re here!”

A moment later, the two were enveloped in a hug. Alfred reciprocated with a pat on Feliciano’s back as Maggie stiffened, once again taken aback. Something told her that she should get used to that behaviour, but it wasn’t easy.

After that, Feliciano guided them inside the restaurant and took their coats.

The interior was simple almost to the point of being rustic, and at the same time it looked comfortable, brightened up by colourful flower arrangements and beautiful landscape paintings hanging from the walls.

“Feli made them,” Alfred explained.

Maggie whirled towards Feliciano, her eyes widening in surprise. She _had_ been told that he was a good painter, but that…

“They’re gorgeous…” was all she could mutter.

Feliciano beamed.

“Thanks! You know, I really love painting!”

“Who’s there, Feli?” asked at the same time a feminine voice.

The owner was a tall woman in her late thirties or early forties, who walked towards them with energic steps. Shoulder-length wavy cinnamon brown hair framed a small face with full cheeks, a pointy chin, big green eyes and a smile that had something cat-like.

“Al,” Feliciano said in the same moment said boy cheerfully greeted the woman. “And this is Maggie, the new girl I told you about.”

The woman immediately focused her attention on Maggie, her smile widening.

“I’m Laura. It’s a pleasure meeting you, I hope you’ll find yourself welcome here!”

With a small wave, Laura slid behind the register just as a second one entered the room. While still tall, she was a bit shorter than Laura, and her body, covered by a white blouse and black skirt that Maggie guessed being the waitress’s uniform, looked tonic and athletic. Her skin had a healthy rosy hue and she had green eyes and light brown hair tied up in a bun, adorned with a pink flower.

“Hi!” she exclaimed immediately, spotting Maggie. “I’m Erzsébet, Feli’s mother.”

She took her hand as the girl managed to murmur a quiet _‘Nice to meet you’_ , noticing at the same time how strong the hold was.

“And I have to go back to work. See you later! Feli, bring them to the table, will you? I think that almost everybody’s here.”

Feliciano led Alfred and Maggie to a smaller room where a big table was already surrounded by people. Maggie immediately spotted Erika, Feliks, Tolys, Raivis, Ludwig, Kiku and, to her surprise, Ivan and Natalya. She also noticed that the other two girls were wearing simple, not overly elegant dresses. Maggie wasn’t underdressed, that was a relief.

Maggie sat down between Alfred and Erika, who immediately offered her a gentle smile. Not much later, Lukas and Emil arrived accompanied by a tall boy with gelled up ash blond hair that Maggie found out being Mikkel, immediately followed by Erzsébet bringing the menus.

Maggie found herself staring at it as the other started chatting, probably already used to the menu. The prices immediately attracted her eyes. They didn’t look too high, but at the moment she didn’t have much money she could spend… she really needed to find a part-time job.

“Take something Italian,” Alfred suggested her, misunderstanding the reason for her hesitation. “Lovi’s always a wonderful cook, but Italian dishes are his best.”

Maggie decided to take his advice: it wasn’t like she had anything better to spend her money in, after all. Besides, she had been invited, so it would have been rude of her to buy only an appetizer or something as cheap.

It’s wasn’t long before everybody was ready to order, and Erzsébet soon came back to their table.

In the meantime, other people - mainly families - had started occupying the other tables, and a light chatter rose to fill the room. The people at Maggie’s table were chatting as well, and in spite of occasional gibes between Alfred and Ivan, everybody looked completely at ease.

When the food arrived sometime later, Maggie found out that it was absolutely delicious, she wasn’t surprised that the restaurant seemed completely full.

“Lovi has been cooking since he was a child.” Feliciano told her after she had expressed her appreciation for the food. “I’ve been told that he was impossible to deal with at the orphanage, so they often put him helping in the kitchen as a punishment… but he ended up liking it. And every summer we go back to Italy for at least a month, you know, our grandfather’s house is still there, and there’s this old lady who knew him well and she’s very fond of us, when she found out that Lovi liked cooking she wanted nothing more than teaching him… and so he learned. I did too, but I’m not as good as Lovi, Lovi’s just… it’s like he was born for this, you know? He has never really like school or anything else, he just wanted to cook. This is why uncle Tonio and aunt Laura opened the restaurant… they took care of it at first, Tonio’s pretty good at cooking and Laura bakes the sweets and takes care of the countability and all that stuff, but all this was actually for Lovi. He started working so hard with the restaurant as an incentive…”

Maggie nodded along with Feliciano’s words, impressed by how far Antonio and Laura had gone for Lovino. _‘Steve would never do something like this for you.’_ , whispered a traitorous corner of her mind. Maggie drove the nails into her palms to smother the wicked thought: the situation was completely different, after all. Not even her mother would have sacrificed her career for her, let alone Steve, but it was all right. Maggie should be grateful to be alive.

The girl was wrenched out of her thoughts when Mikkel burst into a loud laughter and consequently almost choked on his coke, catching everybody’s attention. Everybody burst into laughter as Lukas tapped Mikkel’s back with a bored expression, while Emil hid his face in his hands - but there didn’t seem to be any malicious intent anywhere, it looked more like innocuous mocking between old-time friends.

The second servings soon followed the first one, and while Maggie hadn’t ordered anything she wasn’t the only one - Alfred stopped complaining about it after both Erika and Feliks, who hadn’t ordered any second as well, reassured him that it was absolutely normal. Maggie didn’t miss how Feliks checked her empty plate and then her frame, as if trying to judge whether she had truly eaten everything. For how strangely pleasant his concern was, Maggie had to find a way to clear the misconception, she didn’t want him to worry.

A hand landed on the back of her seat.

“So you’re the infamous new girl, uh?”

Maggie whirled around to find herself face to face with Mikkel.

“I hadn’t introduced myself yet, but I guess you know who I am.” The boy went on, his lips curved into a slight smile.

Maggie nodded uncertainly, unsure of where that conversation was headed.

“And I know who you are.” Mikkel winked at her. “There was quite a talk around you, believe it or not. I was curious to see you… Al’s girlfriend, uh?”

The heat rose to Maggie’s cheeks, while Alfred made a choking sound.

“She’s not my girlfriend, how many times do I have to tell you?” The boy protested, coughing.

His skin had taken a scarlet hue, Maggie didn’t know if it was due to the embarrassment or the lack of air. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know, Mikkel’s words had left her completely paralyzed, the breath frozen in her lungs.

Mikkel chuckled.

“Keep telling this to yourself… Jesus, you were out of yourself with worry yesterday. I thought I was going to off myself if I heard you talking about hockey try-outs and damsels in distress again.”

Somebody giggled from the other side of the table, Alfred sputtered, frowning.

“Oh come off it, it doesn’t mean anything! And it wasn’t that bad, I…”

Before Alfred could complete the sentence, Erzsébet came back to collect the plates, and Mikkel returned to his seat after grinning at Alfred.

Erzsébet had started listing the desserts, but Maggie couldn’t follow her, her ears were ringing as her eyes automatically searched Alfred’s ones.

The boy was still flushed.

“Uhm, sorry about this,” he muttered with an awkward smile, “Mikkel’s just… he likes to joke. He didn’t mean to mock you, this was for me…”

“Of course. It’s fine.” Maggie answered automatically.

Her stomach was churning, almost threatening to expel its counted, and Alfred’s hesitant smile, so different from his usual earnest ones, felt like a stab. She didn’t even know what it was, but there was something so wrong in the entire sequence…

“I don’t think I could eat an entire dessert, would you like to split?” Erika’s soft voice asked unexpectedly.

Maggie turned immediately towards her, the grip in her chest and stomach slowly loosening as she discussed what to take with the other girl. She almost wanted to thank her for the save, but Erika didn’t mention anything, she simply repeated the dessert list with a gentle smile. Too awkward to speak, Maggie could express her gratitude for her sensitivity only with a smile of her own. It was probably for the best.

Around the table, the conversation had resumed as if nothing had happened, the only acknowledgement was an apologetic glance Lukas sent Maggie.

But maybe it _was_ nothing, Maggie realized with a pang of surprise. There had been nothing serious in Mikkel’s words, just some friendly joking to embarrass his younger team-mate. Except for maybe Erika, nobody seemed to have realized how heavily those words had weighted on Maggie’s mind. The girl didn’t know how to process the information.

Was that how friends usually behaved? She had no way to know, she had never been included in a group before. The episode had been like a punch in the gut, making Maggie suddenly aware of her crippling inadequacy.

Play-time was over. It had lasted even longer than Maggie had expected, but now it was time to go back to her normal invisibility.

Trying to ignore the heavy weight that was settling on her stomach, Maggie turned her eyes back to the plate, clenching her fist as she tried to come to terms with the situation - which shouldn’t have been so painful, she was used to it…

Once again, Maggie was surprised. Erika, Feliks and Feliciano seemed to have only decided to let her a moment to collect herself before they chatted again, asking about typical Canadian sweets, and after some moments Alfred claimed her attention, smiling as if nothing had happened.

For how confusing it was, Maggie wasn’t going to complain, and she gradually relaxed as the time passed by so quickly that by the time somebody announced that it was 4 pm she was caught completely by surprise. Only at that moment, the girl realized that the room was almost empty, its only occupants aside for them a couple with two children.

The teens started calmly getting up and collecting their stuff as Feliciano went to get their coats, but nobody seemed to be in a hurry, it was after some other time that they all queued in front of the register. Without a single word, Laura gave everybody a discount.

Maggie would have wanted to refuse, or at least melt in profuse thanks, but the seemingly naturality everybody acted with left her tongue-tied with confusion, and she soon found herself following the other teens out of the restaurant, the feeling of being out of place slowly creeping over her.

She had no idea of what would happen. Were they going to go home? Or stay a bit outside? In any case, she probably was with Alfred.

That small certainty, along with the surprisingly cool air that invested her as soon as she stepped out of the door, helped to bring a bit of clarity back to her mind.

Feliciano started complaining about the cold, but Maggie didn’t mind: cold meant home. She had no illusion that the winter was going to be like the ones she was used to, but the cooling temperatures seemed to bring with them the distant promise of soft snow and afternoon spent reading, curled under heavy blankets.

In spite of the occasional complaints about the temperatures, nobody seemed to be in a real hurry and they stopped to chat in the parking lot, occasionally shivering and huddling close to each other to fend off the cold (not exaggerated yet, but some of them didn’t seem used to it).

Little by little, people started leaving, and the last one was Erika, getting in the car with a green-eyed blond man who would have looked remarkably like her, if not for his cross expression.

The only ones left were Maggie, Alfred, Feliciano and Ludwig.

“Are you staying a bit more?” the Italian boy asked, voicing Maggie’s question.

“Gil is working, I have no rush to get home,” Ludwig muttered, “What about you two? I’ll drive you home if you want.”

Both Alfred and Maggie, however, had already finished their homework, and that was how Maggie found herself following the boys to a bench lit by the sun.

She sat down on the edge next to Alfred, who immediately stretched out his legs, relaxing as he chatted with Feliciano, with Ludwig intervening from time to time.

Maggie knew that she should have been uneasy, she didn’t belong with the boys, but even if she was barely talking it wasn’t like that - the occasional questions and smiles addressed to her made her almost feel like a welcome addition instead of a nuisance.

The restaurant’s door suddenly swung open, anticipating the appearance of a boy that had to be Feliciano’s older brother.

The similarity between the two was striking: they had exactly the same lean body type, the same facial features and even the same haircut, even if Lovino’s hair was dark brown and his curl was on the opposite side. The boy’s complexion was also darker than his brother’s, and his eyes hazel.

The main differences, however, weren’t physical ones. While Feliciano seemed to be constantly smiling, the perfect picture of innocence and earnest kindness, Lovino looked sullen and guarded. His movements were brisk, his steps devoid of the bounce-like quality that characterized Feliciano’s ones.

“What are your lazy asses doing here, don’t you have any better to…”

Lovino spotted Maggie and froze for a moment, then his lips curled into a small smile.

“Ah, you must be the new girl.” He stated in a kinder voice. “Maggie, right? Lovino Vargas. It’s a pleasure.”

He held out his hands and shook Maggie’s, his hold steady without being too strong.

“You’re Feliciano’s brother, aren’t you?” Maggie stammered as the boy sat down next to her, unsure of what to say.

“Unfortunately,” Lovino answered with an exaggerated sigh, making the younger boy pout.

Maggie unconsciously moved closer to Alfred, unsure of how to behave, but there was no trace of malice in the second smile Lovino addressed her.

“I hope these idiots haven’t made you uncomfortable in any way. None of them knows any manner… Nor that they should be nice to somebody who just moved. They weren’t too overwhelming, were they?”

“Hey, we were nice!” protested Alfred, huffing in a childish way.

Lovino shook his head.

“Believe it or not, it was _you_ I was worrying about. A blind sloth has more tact than you do, I swear…”

In spite of the harsh tone, there was a spark of fondness in Lovino’s voice. Even his concern for Maggie seemed genuine.

The girl offered him a shy smile.

“Oh, but they _were_ nice, really. They… everybody’s been incredibly welcoming.”

“See?” commented Alfred, pouting as Feliciano nodded.

Lovino rolled his eyes, but after that, he seemed to relax and joined the conversation. With Maggie, he was the true picture of politeness, oddly sensitive to her eventual uneasiness, while he was somehow blunt with the other three boys, but never in a truly mean way.

He was completely different from Feliciano, but Maggie could tell that he was a good person, once somebody got used to him.

“People, I’m sorry but unlike some lazy asses around here I have to go back to work.” Lovino announced sometime later as he stood up from the bench, stretching. “Maggie, it was a pleasure. Come back anytime!”

“I think we’d better go,” Ludwig commented as soon as Lovino got back inside, “It’s getting late, and I don’t like those clouds…”

Maggie followed his gaze. Dark grey clouds had started piling up at the horizon, and they were moving quickly, pushed by the strong wind.

Without need for other words, the four teens got into Ludwig’s car. By the time they stopped in front of Maggie’s house, a steady drizzle had started to fall, and the lightings shining at the horizon were foretelling an imminent storm.

“Thank you for everything!” Maggie yelled as she dashed to the patio.

Like the previous afternoon, Ludwig waited until she was inside before leaving. The small act of kindness brought a smile to Maggie’s lips as a spark of warmth blossomed inside her chest.

Without stopping smiling, the girl automatically hung her coat and took off her shoes before tip-toeing to her bedroom, her mind still relieving the previous hours. Part of her still couldn’t completely believe it was real, it had been such a normal and at the same time absolutely uncommon experience…

Maggie was still so dazed that she hadn’t even realized she had turned on the light. Shaking her head, she turned to the switch - but it was nowhere close to her.

A small frown creased the girl’s forehead as she looked around. She registered a movement at the left - and suddenly, her back impacted painfully with the wall, knocking the wind out of her.

The shoes and bag fell from her grip, tumbling to the ground.

Maggie blinked, dazedly raising her head. The breath was immediately frozen inside her throat.

Steve was towering over her, his hair hanging limply around his face and his eyes bloodshot on his contorted features.

A small gasp seeped through Maggie’s lips as her eyes widened.

_This… this isn’t possible. It’s not dinner time yet. He can’t be home. He can’t._

Her mind desperately clung to those words, but there was no denying the reality in front of her eyes. Maggie couldn’t breathe.

Steve slammed his left hand against the wall and bent over Maggie, bringing his face a right above hers. The nauseatingly sweet smell of his alcoholic breath invaded the girl’s nostrils, almost making her gag.

_He can’t be home._

But he was.

“So?” hissed Steve, “I’d really like to hear your explanation. Imagine my surprise… I got home earlier, imagining my step-daughter that makes her pathetic existence at least slightly useful preparing me a cup of tea, and what do I get? An empty house, and you’re nowhere to be seen! Did I give you the permission to leave the house?!”

Steve’s voice had turned to a full yell.

Maggie flattened herself against the wall, instinctively raising her trembling arms in front of her face.

“I… I…” she stammered feebly, her paralyzed mind struggling to find words. “I just… just went to-to to do… homework with Nat-Natalya, she’s… she’s a class-”

“I don’t give a fucking damn of who you were with!” roared Steve, grabbing her wrists with bruising force. “Did I say you could leave?”

Maggie’s mind was empty, her tongue frozen. She knew that she had to answer, but she could only whimper as pain shot through her wrists.

Steve shook her.

“Answer me! Did I allow you to leave the house!?”

“N-no!” blubbered Maggie, desperately trying to force air into her tightened lungs.

Steve slammed the girl against the wall, eliciting a pained gasp from her lips.

“So,” he growled, bending closer to his step-daughter. “Why. The. Fuck. Where. You. OUTSIDE?!”

“I… I…”

Maggie’s mind was completely empty, she could only hear the blood pounding in her ears, her heart thumping so wildly that it was about to explode. She couldn’t put together a single sentence, couldn’t even breathe.

With a frustrated yell, Steve buried his fist in Maggie’s stomach, knocking the breath out of her lungs. The blinding rush of agony was intensified when a second and a third punch followed the first one, then Steve finally released his hold.

Maggie fell to her knees, doubling over, her arms pressed against her stomach in a futile attempt to alleviate the pain as she coughed as sputtered, desperately trying to get air back into her begging lungs.

A foot crashed against her side, making Maggie moan at the jolt of pain, and the kick was immediately followed by other ones, to her legs, her sides, her stomach… Steve was yelling, but Maggie couldn’t make out his words above the ringing in her ears.

Soon the girl lost count of the times she had been hit, everything was enveloped in a fog of pain as tears streamed down her face.

“Please, please, stop…” she was sobbing between the moans and pained whimpers, barely aware that her lips were moving.

A more violent kick was delved into her stomach as Maggie had her arms raised to shield her face. The muscles of her abdomen clenched agonizingly, the acid taste of the bile reached Maggie’s throat.

Gasping, Maggie managed to roll to a side and threw up violently.

Steve yelped, jumping back just in time to avoid dirtying his shoes.

Doubled over in agony, Maggie threw up everything that was inside her stomach as the cramps kept assaulting her and continued hacking and sputtering until only acid bile coated her lips. For what seemed forever, the only thing Maggie’s mind could realize was the agonizing pain, her stomach tossing and turning as the muscles in her abdomen cramped as if she was still being repeatedly hit. Small whimpers seeped through her lips, but only a vague corner of her mind registered it.

As the haze of pain started to lift, awareness slowly came back to Maggie.

Steve had stopped hitting her. Just in time, her body couldn’t take much more than that before being hurt seriously… but that silence was unnatural.

Trying to ignore the pain, Maggie squinted her eyes open and found herself looking at a pool of foul-smelling liquid on the ground.

Her own vomit.

The air left Maggie’s lungs as she realized what had just happened. Her ears ringing, she raised her head to look at Steve’s shocked face. Never in her life she had defied him so, the man seemed as lost as she was.

“You…” he hissed, breathing heavily. His clenched hands were trembling. “You little slut, how do you _dare_ …”

Maggie opened and closed her mouth. Even the pain was almost forgotten in front of the shock.

Steve roared in frustration.

He grabbed Maggie’s arms and started dragging her through the room, without giving the girl any time to find her footing.

“You like going out, don’t you? Well then, you know what? You can stay outside! And don’t even fucking think about coming back, you dirty little whore!”

Yelling, Steve opened the door and trust Maggie outside. The girl’s body crashed against the wooden boards, sending waves of agony through her entire left side.

“Wait!” she rasped, trying to fumble to her shaky feet.

Maggie manages to throw herself against the door just as it closed, the dull thud of the latch resounding in her ears like a death sentence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikkel is Denmark  
> Laura is Belgium  
> Erika is Liechtenstein  
> Lukas is Norway  
> Emil is Iceland  
> The rest of Maggie's and Alfred's team-mates are OCs.
> 
> I apologize for how I dealt with the hockey try-outs. My knowledge of hockey is nearly non-existent (I’m not a great fan of sports in general, to be honest). I did read some pages about the rules and watched some footage (I also watched some full matches in some Winter Olympics, I think, but that was a while ago) but I couldn’t really find anything about how training works, I mostly read it in other fanfictions, so in the end I decided that it was better not to write anything instead of making mistakes.
> 
> Also, since this chapter ended up being only one, Francis is going to show up next!
> 
> Reviews are always extremely appreciated


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m back! Sorry for taking so long, I had troubles writing a chapter for another fic turns out I can’t multitask. Anyway, thanks a lot for the kudos and the bookmarks - and especially, thank you so, so much for the comments! Your support really means a lot to me.
> 
>  **Things to know before reading this chapter:** when I write entire dialogues in italics, it means the characters are talking in a language that isn’t English - in this case, French. I understand French if it’s spoken slowly, but I can’t speak it, and seeing the mess people make when they use online translators for Italian (no, seriously. Sometimes I can’t understand the meaning until I read the English ‘translation’, and I’m Italian) I didn’t want to do the same.  
>  English is still sadly not my first language, I apologize for the mistakes (about this, during the Christmas holidays I’ll try to do a bit of clean-up of all my fics).
> 
> **As this is a continuation of the last chapter, there are references to child abuse.**

The sky was completely dark, an almost full moon gleaming timidly behind the thinning clouds. The storm had finally quieted down, and now the cold breeze carried the fresh smell of wet grass.

Maggie was sitting against the wall, her arms and legs folded against her throbbing stomach. Her sore body was shaken by strong tremors.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed - the only thing she knew was that Steve had no intention of letting her back in. She had tried ringing the bell and knocking at the door until her hands had started hurting, sobbing as she begged for forgiveness, but only silence had answered her pleas.

The girl pressed her thighs closer to her body, trying simultaneously to soothe another painful cramp that had gripped her stomach and retain the last spark of warmth.

Until a few minutes earlier, the rain had been accompanied by a strong wind that had made it fall almost horizontally, nullifying any refuge the porch might have offered. Maggie was completely drenched. The wet, heavy fabric of her clothes was stuck to her body, making the cold seep from her skin to her bones, her hair was still dripping on her back and forehead, her bare feet were so icy that she could hardly feel them anymore.

Maggie knew that she couldn’t just stay outside, while it wasn’t excessively cold yet, it wasn’t warm enough to sleep there, even less considering how wet she was.

At the same time, there was nothing else she could do. Steve had made his intentions far too clear, he wasn’t going to let her inside until the following morning, and she knew that he wasn’t going back on his word.

Of course, Maggie knew that she was probably exaggerating: she wasn’t going to _die_ because of a night spent outside. She was surely going to get sick, however, and it probably wasn’t going to be just a slight cold… it wouldn’t be pleasant. Was that the punishment Steve had intended to dish out to her? She _had_ disobeyed and lied to him, after all…

Maggie buried her head against her knees, whimpering at an intense jolt of pain in her stomach.

_I didn’t want to disobey Steve, just spend some other times with Alfred and the others…_

Alfred. What was he going to think? He was so nice and attentive that he was probably going to notice Maggie’s absence the following Monday... Maggie knew with absolute certainty that he would be furious, there was no way he would understand Steve’s motivations.

A cough shook the girl’s body, reverberating painfully against her bruised ribcage. Maggie realized that her teeth were chattering.

_Will I truly last until tomorrow morning?_

Maggie wasn’t so sure anymore, but she had no alternative. A sudden, crazy thought of asking Alfred for help sparked in her mind, but the girl repressed it as quickly as it had come. She didn’t know exactly where Alfred lived, only that it wasn’t far away, and her phone was still in the bag forgotten on the floor. Besides, she wasn’t even sure if Alfred would be home, Maggie vaguely recalled him saying that he had a party with his football team… she didn’t know if it had already started, and in any case, what could she even tell him?

That was without even counting the fact that it wouldn’t have been _fair_ : for how unbearable Steve’s punishment might have seemed, for how much she would have wanted to avoid it - deep down, Maggie knew that she deserved whatever was coming at her. She couldn’t just get away from it…

The girl was jerked back to reality by a sudden shout.

“ _Mon Dieu!_ What are doing out there?! Are you hurt?!”

Maggie gasped, raising her head.

The person who had talked was a man standing next to a lamppost in front of the fence, gaping at Maggie. He was tall and elegant, dressed in a tailored dark blue coat that went down to his knees, his body and lean and his shoulders broad enough to look strong but not stocky. There was something strikingly peculiar about him - maybe it had to do with his shoulder-length wavy ash-blond hair, tied loosely with a blue ribbon over his left shoulder. The man didn’t look completely real, almost a ghost of a time went by, and for a moment Maggie thought that he had been conjured by her confused mind - but then, the man spoke again.

“Are you all right, _ma chérie_?” he asked anxiously, “What happened? Can you stand? Did you slip and got hurt?”

Maggie shook her head, too disoriented for a more elaborate answer, but that didn’t seem to reassure the stranger.

“Why aren’t you inside, then? It’s too cold to stay here! And… _mon Dieu_ , you’re drenched!”

Hesitantly, Maggie got to her feet and walked to the fence, her arms tightly wrapped around her abdomen in answer to both the fierce pain that gripped her stomach at the movement and the shivers wreaking her body.

As she got closer, the girl deduced that the stranger had to be somewhere between his mid-thirties and early forties. He was incredibly handsome, the concern creasing his skin couldn’t hide the elegant, aristocratic beauty of his high cheekbones, straight nose and chiselled features, highlighted even more by a pair of striking periwinkle blue eyes. The man’s chin was covered by a light stubble, but instead of making him look shabby it only added to the sophisticated vibe that seemed to permeate him.

Once again, a corner of Maggie’s sluggish mind wondered whether the man was real or just a hallucination, but when the girl got in front of him he took off his coat with a sharp movement and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was heavy and warm, and cast a faint smell of cologne - it was real. And so was the man, whom Maggie could only gape at, taken completely out of surprise by his gesture.

“ _Ma chérie,_ what are doing here?” the man kept asking anxiously, “Look at you, you’re shivering, you poor dear… Get back inside, it’s too cold…”

Maggie shook her head.

“I… I got locked out.” She said feebly. She didn’t even know why she was answering, but she was far too tired to ignore the stranger.

The man looked even more concerned, the wrinkles on his forehead deepening.

 _“Merde…”_ he muttered, “Isn’t anybody home?”

His eyes swept over the lawn and the house. Maggie knew that the car was in plain sight, like the lights inside the living room.

“Y-yeah” she stammered desperately, unable to hide the trembling in her voice. “My step-dad is inside, but he wasn’t feeling well, he had a migraine, he took something and went to bed… I just… I-I wanted to take out the trash, but I forgot the k-keys, and the wind closed the door behind me… I… I tried to ring, but Steve must be asleep, I think he even had ear-plugs, he’s not going to wake up…”

Tears were pressing against Maggie’s eyelids.

_Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…_

“Hey, it’s all right.” the man murmured in a soothing voice, laying a hand on her shoulder. “But you _do_ realize that you can’t spend the night outside, don’t you? Do you have somebody you can call?”

Maggie shook her head, shrugging. She was aware of the truth in those words, but she didn’t see any alternative.

The man hesitated for a moment before talking again.

“Listen. What I’m going to say now might sound creepy, but I don’t have bad intentions, I swear. You absolutely cannot stay here. I understand that calling the police might not be the best course of action, so… come to my place. You can have a warm shower, then use my phone to call home and see if your step-father wakes up. If he doesn’t, I have a guest room, you’re welcome to stay there for the night.”

_What?_

Maggie could only gawk at the stranger, tongue-tied by the surprise.

The man misunderstood her silence.

“I know that you don’t even know me.” He murmured, “But you cannot stay here, _chérie_. Please, trust me. Come with me.”

His features were incredibly expressive, everything, from his widened eyes and raised eyebrows to his voice, communicated a genuine concern.

Maggie’s brain couldn’t process what was happening. That couldn’t be real. Maybe she had passed out and she was dreaming… but the warm weight of the coat around her shoulders was real, and the fierce ache in various parts of her body told her that she was awake.

“Why…?” was the only word that finally went past her lips.

The man’s brow furrowed in concern.

“What do you mean ‘why’? I can’t possibly leave a young girl outside in the cold, you could die! Or you would get sick, anyway…”

Once again, Maggie was at loss. She was vaguely aware of the pathetic spectacle her drenched body must have offered, she probably looked like a drowned rat, but for a total stranger to worry so much about her… it didn’t sound real at all.

“You don’t even know my name…” she muttered stupidly, gaping at the man.

“Oh…” he exhaled, but the lines on his forehead smoothened.

“Well, I guess that I should introduce myself then. Forgive my lack of manners… _Mademoiselle,_ it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Francis Bonnefoy, your neighbour.”

He held out his hand, but Maggie didn’t take it, too absorbed registering his words. That man was the same Francis Bonnefoy Alfred had mentioned so many times - and of course, only at that moment Maggie’s sluggish brain finally registered the strong French accent that permeated the man’s speech.

“ _Vous êtes français._ _”_ she stated dumbly, blinking. **(You’re French) [1]**

The man’s eyes widened in surprise, but the intonation of his voice didn’t change.

 _“Well yes, I am.”_ He answered in the same language, _“But maybe we can talk about it inside?”_

Maggie nodded automatically, a wave of exhaustion washing over her.

 _“Marguerite Williams.”_ She declared, her brain still stuck in the need of being respectful, as she finally took the hand that Francis was still holding out to her. It was big and warm, the skin surprisingly smooth to the touch.

“ _All right, Marguerite. That’s truly a beautiful name… can you come with me, now? You’re shivering, pauvre petite…”_

Maggie knew that she shouldn’t accept. She knew that if Steve gave her a punishment, she had to take it without complaining because she deserved it.

And at the same time, her body was aching from the beating and shivering from the cold, and she was so exhausted… Francis’s gentle smile and sophisticated French felt safe, almost home.

 _“All right.”_ She whispered, finally giving in to the pain and tiredness. Francis’s kindness was something she didn’t deserve, but there was no fight left in her.

The girl stumbled towards the gate, and as soon as she was outside Francis grabbed her elbow as if to prevent her from falling. He firmly led her through the few metres that separated them from his house and then inside it.

Maggie immediately took in the luminous, white walls of the hallway, adorned with some paintings, a perfectly clean mirror next to a wardrobe, sided by a vase of flowers, and the polished, light-coloured parquet. She knew how difficult it was to keep something like that clean - and her feet were wet and filthy. _She_ was gross, the contrast between her pathetic self and the sparkling clean house was making her skin crawl, but when she stopped to try and clumsily dry her feet Francis dragged her inside.

“ _Don’t worry about this, ma chérie, I’ll take care of the floor later, the most important thing now is that you get warm.”_

Too tired to resist, Maggie followed him into the hallway. In spite of the pleasant warmth her brain dutifully registered, she couldn’t stop shivering, she curled into the coat wrapped around her slight frame before remembering that it didn’t belong to her.

Francis didn’t seem to mind.

 _“Would you rather have a bath or a shower?”_ he asked, concern showing through his features as his eyes looked over the girl’s trembling figure.

 _“A shower is fine.”_ Maggie answered automatically.

The idea of a bath - of relaxing lying in the warm water - sounded heavenly, but a shower would be quicker. She couldn’t inconvenience Francis any further.

The thinning of Francis’s lips showed his scepticism, but he nodded wordlessly. Without wasting a single moment, he led Maggie to the first floor and into a big, fancy bathroom with blue tiles decorated with a delicate flower motif.

The man immediately went to a cabinet and started sorting through its content.

 _“Here, you can use these.”_ He stated as he took out some bottles and placed them inside the big shower in the left corner of the bathroom. _“Body soap, shampoo and conditioner. They should be fine for your hair, it’s a good brand - I’ll get you a comb.”_

Maggie shook her head, startled.

_“Oh! Oh, no, there’s no need for that, thank you, but I’ll just use a bit of warm water, I don’t want to cause any trouble…”_

Francis shook her off with a careless wave of his hand.

_“Don’t be silly, ma chérie. You need to get under the water, just take a nice shower and relax since you’re here.”_

He looked around, his brow furrowing.

 _“Wait a moment.”_ He said before stepping out of the door.

Once she was alone, Maggie dazedly looked around, her eyes roaming over the room without actually taking anything in. She was having troubles registering what had just happened. Only some minutes earlier, she had been outside, resigned to spend the night in the cold, completely drenched, and at that moment, she was inside the most elegant bathroom she had ever seen, courtesy of a stranger who had essentially picked her up from the street.

_I thought it happened only in movies._

But that wasn’t a movie or a dream, the deep ache in various parts of her body and jolts of pain plaguing her abdomen kept reminding Maggie that it was real. For some inexplicable reason, Francis Bonnefoy had decided to help a pathetic, unfamiliar girl, going as far as inviting her into his own house.

 _“Here.”_ The man’s voice jerked Maggie out of her thoughts. Francis was back, with a pile of towels in his hands. _“You can use these.”_

He lowered the towels on a stool next to the shower and extracted a light blue t-shirt from the pile.

_“You can hang your clothes to the radiator. And when you’re done put this on, it should be big enough.”_

Maggie nodded dazedly. Automatically, she parted from the coat and handed it to Francis.

_“I… I don’t really know how to thank you. And sorry for the troubles…”_

Francis smiled.

 _“You don’t have to thank me. And it’s absolutely no troubles, I’m serious.”_ He stopped at the doorway and inserted a key into the keyhole. _“Lock yourself in. I promise that I have no bad intentions.”_

Had there been any warmth left in Maggie, she would’ve blushed.

_“Oh! I didn’t…”_

From the moment she had realized who Francis was, she had trusted him unconditionally. The thought that he might be some sort of predator hadn’t even crossed her brain - but of course, Francis couldn’t know that. He didn’t know that Maggie knew Arthur and Alfred, she hadn’t told him, and she had no intention of changing it: it was bad enough that she had inconvenienced Francis, she couldn’t risk him alerting Arthur and getting him worked up over that. The man’s kindness didn’t feel any less touching.

 _“Don’t worry about anything,”_ He murmured soothingly as he crossed the door. _“Just think about warming up. And stay in the shower as much as you’d like - I’m not going to run out of warm water.”_

Before Maggie could thank him another time, Francis closed the door behind him.

The girl stood still for a moment, staring at it, then she shook herself from the stupor and turned the key before turning on the water. She started peeling off the drenched clothes from her icy skin as she waited for the water to get warm, but a wrong movement sparked a sudden flash of pain that sent the girl on her knees, doubling over as her stomach clenched agonizingly. The sour taste of bile reached Maggie’s throat, she barely made it to the toilet before she started retching and coughing.

The vomiting session didn’t last long, there was nothing left in her stomach, but it left the girl doubled over, with her insides twisting in agony. Trying to breathe through the pain, Maggie pressed her face to her thighs and kept hugging tightly her stomach until the excruciating cramps faded to a more bearable level. Tears were pressing against her eyelids by then, but she hadn’t let out a single whimper - and the warm steam from the shower had started spreading over the room.

Maggie gingerly got back to her feet, carefully cradling her stomach, but while standing caused a steady, deep ache she could manage it. Sighing, Maggie got into the shower.

All her concern faded as the water hit her skin, making her icy extremities tingle as the warmth was brought back to them. Maggie’s resolution to be quick completely vanished into the heavenly sensation of the scalding drops hitting her body, making the warmth finally seep from her skin to her insides. Even the ache from the beating seemed to fade a bit.

For several moments, Maggie just stood still, letting the water wash over her and relishing in the feeling of the warmth coating her skin, her soft hair caressing her back. It seemed to take forever before she finally decided to start washing. A pang of surprise accompanied the realization that Francis’s shower products were truly of good quality, they left the girl’s skin and hair soft and cast a pleasant flowery smell, noticeable without being too strong. It wasn’t something she would have expected to find in a single man’s house - but Francis seemed anything but a regular person, after all.

When Maggie finally stepped out of the shower, immediately mourning the pleasant warmth as the cold air hitting her skin made her shiver, she was so worn out that the simple act of standing and keeping her head straight seemed a feat. She felt slightly more alert than she had been before the shower, however.

Maggie took some time to carefully wring out her hair and dry her skin with one of Francis’s towel - the softest towel that had ever touched her body, she could hardly feel it - then she folded it carefully and turned to the mirror that covered the entire wall.

A grimace immediately contorted her features. Maggie had already been aware that her naked body wasn’t a pretty sight, but it still managed to surprise her each time. Her skin was a patchwork of grotesque colours - save from the original white that still showed in some places, yellow and green blotches of old bruises that had yet to disappear mixed with the red and purple welts from the most recent beating. Her abdomen was a complete mess, a visual testimony of the deep aches that plagued Maggie’s body. Hits to the abdomen were a favourite of Steve: even a single blow was enough to leave Maggie in excruciating pain for several moments, all without leaving easily visible marks - sometimes, they didn’t leave any mark at all.

 _This_ time wasn’t the case, but Maggie reminded herself that it could have still been a lot worse. While her ribs were throbbing, she knew that they weren’t broken, and even the cramps still gripping her stomach weren’t that bad - she was going to be extremely sore for a couple of days, but there had been times in which she had been in too much pain to stand straight. She would have to be careful about the bruises already blossoming all over her arms and legs, but her face was unblemished. Maggie knew that she should be grateful, she had truly gotten off lightly, especially considering what she had done.

At the same time, the girl couldn’t quell the uneasiness clawing at her mind and stomach. She couldn’t deny that Steve had truly scared her, she was quite sure that she had never seen him so livid before. It was understandable, considering her fault, but Maggie was still having troubles processing how far Steve had gone. She was used to being kicked, punched and yelled at, sometimes even hit with blunt objects, but being kicked out in the cold? That had never happened before, no matter how drunk Steve had been.

_Maybe he only wanted to scare me and teach me a lesson, he was going to let me in after a bit._

For how reassuring the sudden thought was, Maggie had to discard it almost as soon as it crossed her mind: even if that had been Steve’s intention, he was far too wasted to carry it out. She knew him well enough, at that moment, he had to be collapsed somewhere inside the house, dead to the world, and he wasn’t going to regain awareness until the following morning.

_Thinking about this is pointless. I deserved it, anyway. And Steve wouldn’t be so drunk if he didn’t have to take care of me… in any case, it’s my fault._

Shaking her head, Maggie retrieved her underwear - still slightly damp, but pleasantly warm - from the radiator and slipped it on. An intense twinge of pain in her abdomen made her hiss and instinctively clutch it, but she managed to stay on her feet, which was already an improvement from the previous time, and after only a moment she was able to straighten up again and finish dressing up.

The t-shirt Francis had lent her almost reached her mid-tight, and it was soft and casting a pleasant smell of cleanliness. The only thing left to do was to dry her hair.

Maggie groaned. She was far too worn out to hold a hair-dryer, her sore arms were protesting at the mere thought. In spite of that, the damp hair was unpleasantly cool at the nape of her neck, while the hair-drier promised other long minutes of warmth.

_Hair-drier it is, then._

She would have to ask Francis about it - that would mean inconveniencing him ever further, but at that point, Maggie was far too exhausted to truly care.

Finally, the girl got out of the bathroom, immediately shivering at the cold hair that hit her bare skin. Wrapping her arms around herself, Maggie started cautiously walking along the corridor, trying to remember where she had come from.

She hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps when Francis emerged from the door of the room next to the bathroom.

 _“Oh, you’re done! Are you feeling better?”_ he asked immediately.

The smile that started curling his lips vanished in a horrified gasp as the man took in Maggie’s appearance, his eyes widening.

“ _Mon Dieu! What happened to you?!”_

Maggie needed a moment to process the cause of his distress.

 _“Oh!”_ she muttered then, her stomach coiling in horror. _“It’s… it’s nothing, really. I… I play hockey, I got a bit banged up last time…”_

Her lips were frozen, but she managed to curve them into a weak smile.

 _How_ could she have forgotten? Maggie wasn’t nearly as alert as she had thought… the worst of the bruising was hidden by Francis’s t-shirt, but her arms and legs were dangerously on display.

Francis’s features didn’t relax at her answer. If anything, they seemed to tighten even more.

 _“A bit?”_ he echoed as his eyebrows rose in incredulity.

After having seen her body in the mirror, Maggie couldn’t deny that he had a point.

 _“I bruise very easily,”_ She amended with a forced smile, _“It looks worse than it is.”_

That wasn’t completely a lie, the girl’s extremely fair skin hid nothing of the damage. It always made things more difficult.

Francis shook his head, scepticism written in every line of his face, but miraculously, he didn’t question her excuse.

 _“Let me get you some ice, at least,”_ He said instead, “ _And I think I should have some arnica… Not the best, but it’s still better than nothing.”_

 _“There’s no need for that, I-”_ Maggie started saying, but before she could finish the sentence, a sudden sneeze shook her body.

 _“Oh, you must be cold only wearing that!”_ Francis commented immediately, frowning. _“Forgive me, I wasn’t thinking… follow me.”_

The man took Maggie’s arm and gently led her downstairs to a big living room, where he made the girl sit on the sofa and handed her a soft light blue blanket. Maggie wrapped it around herself, accompanying her thanks to Francis with a grateful smile. She allowed herself a moment to relax, basking in the pleasant warmth that was enveloping her tired and sore body, before bringing her attention back to her benefactor.

Francis was staring at her with a thoughtful expression, his forehead slightly furrowed, but he smiled when their eyes met.

 _“Would it be all right if I dried your hair?”_ he asked.

Maggie blinked as she straightened up, taken aback.

_“What?”_

She wasn’t sure that she had heard the question right - but the smile never slipped from Francis’s face.

_“Ah, forgive my bluntness. This must have sounded strange. But see, you cannot keep your hair wet, you’d risk getting sick, and you look exhausted… I can take care of that. You see, my mother has a beauty salon, I worked there for one year before getting to university – it was a while ago, but I’ve dried plenty of hair.”_

The situation was becoming more unreal with each passing moment. If she hadn’t been still in so much pain, Maggie would have been completely sure to be dreaming, her sluggish mind was having a hard time processing anything. She vaguely knew that she shouldn’t accept Francis’s offer, he had already done far too much for her, but she was too exhausted to even _think_ about a reply of sense.

 _“Th-thank you, then?”_ she stammered weakly, unable hide her surprise. _“I mean, if it’s not too much troubles…”_

Francis beamed at her.

_“It’s absolutely no trouble! I might have chosen a different road in the end, but I actually loved taking care of people’s hair. This will be a nice throwback. Just wait a minute.”_

True to his words, the man left the room and reappeared some minutes later, with a hair-dried and a comb in one hand and a mug full of some scalding hot liquid in the other.

_“Drink this, you look still chilled.”_

Maggie took the mug as she was handed it, looking at Francis with questioning eyes.

 _“Chamomile.”_ The man answered the unspoken question. _“You look nervous, it’ll help you relax. Would you like some sugar or honey?”_

Maggie shook her head.

_“It’s fine. Thank you so much…”_

She curled her hands around the mug, relishing in the warmth it gave them. Her stomach was still hurting quite a lot, but something hot in small sips would be fine… besides, chamomile would be good against the cramps. The girl brought the mug to her lips and took a small sip, her lips curling into a small smile when the hot liquid slid down her throat, warming her up from the inside.

Meanwhile, Francis had started combing the girl’s hair, his hands gentle and confident. He clearly knew what he was doing.

 _“I’ve been waiting to meet my new neighbours since I’ve been told that the house had been rented, but I have to admit that I wasn’t expecting it to happen in such a fashion…”_ the man commented after a moment of silence.

Too tired to think about anything to say, Maggie answered with a hum of assent, but Francis didn’t seem discouraged.

_“And I had never expected to meet a French-speaking family! Where are you from?”_

_“We used to leave near Ottawa before moving here…”_ Maggie answered tiredly, _“Steve - my step-father, I mean - got a better job. But uhm, he doesn’t speak French… my mother did. I mean, she was bilingual. And I was born in Montreal, so I spoke mostly French when I was little.”_

Francis hummed in assent. If he had caught anything strange in Maggie’s answer, he didn’t mention it.

 _“Ah, I see. But this is wonderful! I do enjoy living here, but I miss not being able to speak French, English is such an unrefined language…”_ he declared instead, accompanying his words with a melodramatic sigh.

Maggie found herself smiling at that, suddenly remembering what Alfred had mentioned about Francis’s eccentricity. It wasn’t unpleasant, however, and she could understand him. It had been such a long time since she had been able to have an entire conversation in French… she hadn’t realized how much she had missed it, up to that moment.

Francis kept talking about Paris and how the Americans were barbarians compared to French people. Maggie only hummed in assent as she sipped her chamomile - she wouldn’t know, she was _Canadian_ , not French - but Francis didn’t seem offended, and he kept talking.

 _“You have such wonderful hair, it’s so soft and smooth!”_ he commented as he turned on the hair-drier. _“I’d dare say that it’s as soft as mine… and I bet that it’s just as glossy, once it’s dried up. And believe me, this is a big compliment, because…”_

The man kept talking, but Maggie wasn’t listening to him anymore. His fingers treading gently through her hair, combined with the hot blow of the hair-drier, were relaxing her to the point of sleepiness, and Maggie let herself be lulled by the smooth French. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear her mother…

Being a single mother, Chloé had always been extremely busy and she had never had much time for Maggie, but she had always loved taking care of her hair and appearance. Maggie treasured every single one of those memories. She still remembered perfectly the way the fingers would sink in her hair as her mother tried to comb them, with an enthusiasm that often made her a bit too blunt, her lively voice that would keep talking non-stop, pouring out words after words. Every time, without fail, Chloé would comment how lucky Maggie was to have such soft and shiny hair, hers was much frailer and she had never been able to let it grow so long…

The touch of a warm hand over hers jerked Maggie back to reality.

The hair-drier had been turned off, and Francis’s hands weren’t touching her hair anymore. Maggie suddenly realized that she had let her eyelids slid closed and opened them again, gasping.

Francis was leaning over from behind the sofa and his hands had grabbed the empty mug in Maggie’s hands, whose hold had loosened dangerously.

_“Oh!”_

The heat rose to Maggie’s cheeks as she realized what had just happened.

_“Je suis désolée, je suis vraiment désolée...”_

Francis took the mug from her hands and placed it on the coffee table.

_“Non, je suis désolé, I didn’t mean to wake you up…”_

Maggie curled up on herself and lowered her eyes, her face burning in embarrassment, but Francis didn’t sound annoyed.

 _“You must be exhausted, pauvre petite.”_ He commented gently as he went on combing her hair. _“Sorry for all this rambling, I let my excitement have the best of me… Don’t worry, I’m almost done. Then you can go to sleep.”_

Maggie’s stomach coiled with shame. In addition to falling asleep like an idiot and almost breaking the mug Francis had so kindly lent her, she had also rudely ignored the conversation the man had been trying to carry on.

 _“I’m so, so sorry, I really am…”_ she tried to apologize, only for her words to be interrupted by a yawn.

Francis chuckled.

_“See? You’re just tired, and I can’t blame you after all you’ve been through. It’s all right, just rest.”_

Maggie didn’t have any strength nor lucidity left for a reply. A few moments later, Francis started singing under his breath a French song Maggie had never heard before. For how much she tried to stay alert, she was fighting a losing battle: her sore body didn’t want anything but surrender to sleep, and Francis’s fingers were so delicate as they threaded through her hair… much more than her mother’s ones had ever been. Maggie vaguely wondered how she could have compared them.

The girl didn’t realize when she had closed her eyes, but some time later she was brought back to awareness by a gentle touch on her shoulder. Once again, the hair-drier had been turned off, but this time, Maggie’s hair was dry.

 _“I’m sorry that I had to wake you up,”_ Murmured Francis, his features softened by a slight smile. _“but sleeping here would leave you awfully sore. Let’s get you to a real bed.”_

Getting up was the last thing in Maggie’s to-do list. Her body was warm and heavy, the pain had been banned to a corner of her sensorial perceptions, but she knew that it was going to come back with vengeance as soon as she moved a single muscle. At the same time, the girl was aware that Francis was right.

Sighing, Maggie took the hand Francis was holding out to her and let herself be helped to her feet. A sharp stab of agony flared up in her abdomen at the movement, squeezing her stomach in a vice-grip, but the girl didn’t let the pain show through her features.

Slowly, still wrapped in the blanket, Maggie followed Francis to the upper floor and to a room near the bathroom - the same one she had seen Francis emerge from before, she realized.

After a moment of hesitation, the girl followed him inside. The sight left her gaping with surprise: the room looked like it belonged to a hotel. It was bigger than Maggie’s own, with a queen-sized bed in the middle, a big window that opened over a balcony, a drawer on the opposite wall, a small side table and even two armchairs. All the furniture was in the same light-coloured wood, and the comforter was the same light-blue the flowers depicted on a painting hanging on the wall. There was even a small vase of flowers over the drawer.

Francis turned to her, hesitating.

_“I know that you’re tired, but can I give you something to eat? I guess that you didn’t have dinner…”_

Maggie’s stomach lurched at the mere thought, she was still hurting too much for food. She shook her head.

_“Thank you, but I’m not hungry… I’m just tired.”_

Francis nodded with a soft smile.

 _“Understandable.”_ As he had done with the bathroom, the man inserted the key into its hole. _“There’s a jar of arnica on the side-table. Use it for your bruises. If you need anything, I’ll be in the room at the end of the corridor.”_

Maggie nodded frantically as Francis got out of the room.

_“Thank you. Thank you so much, I don’t really know how to thank you, I…”_

_“You don’t need to thank me. Goodnight.”_ Francis interrupted her, then closed the door behind him.

Maggie stood still for a moment before obediently turning the key. She didn’t think she truly needed that, however. After a moment of hesitation, she sat down on the bed and grabbed the jar of arnica. She had been sure that Francis had forgotten about it… He was more attentive than she had thought.

Maggie spread a bit of cream over her bruises before realizing that she was far too tired to do anything. With an exhausted sigh, she slipped under the blankets and curled up on her side. The bed was so comfortable…

Confused thoughts were running inside Maggie’s mind - Steve, Francis… - but she was too tired to try making sense of anything. The girl felt her lids grow heavy as her body finally relaxed.

Suddenly, she realized that Francis hadn’t made her phone home - but even that thought immediately vanished into the oblivion as the girl succumbed to sleep.

* * *

 

A loud music echoed all around the big, dimly-lit room, covering any word people might have uttered, but nobody seemed to be speaking, all engrossed in their wild movements as they tried to follow the rhythm. In the beginning, Alfred hadn’t minded it - he liked dancing, and loud noises had never bothered him - but he was starting to get restless, he wanted to do something more.

Forcefully making his way among the swarm of sweaty bodies, the boy headed towards the tables in a corner of the room. Much to his disappointment, there was no more trace of food, but at least the music was slightly lower, he wouldn’t have to yell if he wanted to talk with somebody.

A friendly punch hit his right shoulder.

“Don’t tell me you’re already tired, Jones.”

Alfred turned to find himself face to face with Sean.

“I’m not tired,” He whined, “I’m bored. Why doesn’t anybody want to do something else?”

Sean chuckled in a way that was quite unlike him. Staring at the older boy, Alfred realized that a light blush adorned his cheeks, and his eyes looked glassy and slightly unfocused. He didn’t look completely wasted yet, but undoubtedly tipsy.

Alfred shouldn’t have been surprised, while nobody was old enough to drink alcohol, somebody always managed to bring some at those parties… but trying to rationalize it did nothing to calm the slight twinge to his stomach. He could only hope that nobody was going to drive drunk.

Frowning, Alfred gave a quick look around to try and pinpoint the alcoholic punch -  his father would kill him if he got home even slightly tipsy, and the boy had no doubt over the fact that he was going to wait for him before going to bed. It was annoying, but Alfred couldn’t deny that he had a point.

“What would you rather do, play video-games?” Sean asked, reaching out to ruffle his hair in spite of being a bit shorter than Alfred.

The boy pulled away, his features adorned by a small frown. He hadn’t been thinking about video-games, actually, more something like a treasure hunt or hide and seek or some other game - there were so many things people could do to have fun! He wouldn’t have minded video games, however. And he didn’t understand why his teammates had to find it such an uncool hobby, it was fun! Alfred had tried to explain it many times before, but, even if they never truly mocked him, his teammates had never accepted that it was a part of his personality instead of a quirk he was going to grow out of. And for how much he would have liked to try and explain it again, probably a drunk Sean wasn’t going to be the most receptive audience.

The older boy sighed. He must have been drunker than Alfred had previously thought, because he wavered and had to brace himself against the younger boy to avoid falling.

“Ohh, now I’ve offended you.” He slurred, “Sorry, bro. Didn’t mean to. Change of topic?”

“Nah, no offence.” Sighed Alfred, forcefully reminding himself that Sean was actually quite a pleasant person to be around and even nicer than most when he was sober.

Sean hummed in assent before sliding an arm around his shoulders. Alfred couldn’t decide whether it was a sign of camaraderie or an attempt to avoid ending flat on the floor.

“Sooo…” Sean slurred after a moment. “See anything you like?”

Alfred rolled his eyes.

_Definitely wasted._

“Dude, they’re the same cheerleaders I’ve been seeing since last year - yeah okay, we have two new ones. But still. I’m not interested in any of them, I already told you!”

“Aww,” Sean was pouting. “But some of them are so hooot…”

_Dear Lord, how much did he drink?_

“And you don’t even know all of them! Look, somebody spread the voice and a lot of other people came… And Cody’s sister, those twins are bombshells, they also brought some friends…”

Alfred looked around, his eyebrows rising in surprise as he finally realized that there were a lot of people he wasn’t familiar with in the room. His eyes were caught by a glimpse of strawberry blond hair, but as soon as they focused on it, he realized that the girl was too tall, and her hair too short and curly… maybe even a shade too dark, but he couldn’t exactly tell in the dim lighting of the room.

“Not interested.” He answered succinctly.

_What was I thinking? Maggie would never spontaneously come to a party like this one… and she doesn’t even know anybody who could have invited her, anyway._

“Are you really sure?” Sean kept pressing him, “There are some real hotties around! And some of them have already set their eyes on you, you should just have a bit of fun!”

The boy pointed at a trio of girls in a corner near the table, who giggled in answer to his gesture, blushing.

Alfred sighed. He didn’t mind flirting a bit, but at that moment, he really didn’t feel like it. The three girls looked willingly enough, they kept glancing at them before diverting their eyes and giggling, and they were even cute, but for some reason, Alfred’s mind couldn’t help comparing them to Maggie. The girl considerably more beautiful without the need of heavy make-up and revealing clothes, and, more importantly, any conversation Alfred might have with her was far more interesting than a bit of light flirting…

“Nah, not tonight.” He retorted, trying to shake himself.

Sean let out a mournful sigh.

“Oh well, have it as you wish.” He muttered, shrugging. “You should let it go, have a bit of fun… but whatever, I guess. I’m not going to let this chance go to waste.”

The older boy disentangled himself from Alfred and shuffled unsteadily towards the girls, who welcomed him with light giggles. They didn’t look much soberer than he was.

Sighing, Alfred diverted his eyes from the scene and poured himself a glass of coke.

_I don’t really want to be here._

He usually had fun with his team-mates, and the parties were always loud and lively, but - every time, the alcohol getting involved brought a bad taste to his mouth, reminding him that it wasn’t the same as spending some time with his friends. Not by a long shot.

“Alfred.”

The voice hadn’t been much more than a sultry whisper, but the boy recognized it immediately.

“Hello, Alyssa,” He sighed, placing the still full glass on the table before turning towards the girl.

Alyssa was smiling at him, her thin lips coated by a dark red lipstick. She was wearing a tight, very revealing black dress that didn’t even reach her mid-tight, so low-cut that it stopped just above her navel. _How_ she wasn’t completely freezing was a true mystery.

“Would you like something to drink?” the girl asked as she strutted closer, the smile never leaving her lips.

Alfred took the glass she handed him and brought it to his lips, squinting. The smell that hit his nostrils was prevalently fruity, but it couldn’t completely hide a sniff of alcohol.

“We’re not old enough to drink this stuff.” Alfred retorted, placing the glass on the table as tried to hide his growing irritation.

Alyssa’s features tightened in an exaggerated pout.

“Come on, have a sip at least… there’s nothing bad with it!” As if to highlight her words, the girl brought the glass to her lips and swallowed a small sip. “See? It’s good!”

Alfred had no doubt that it was, and Alyssa didn’t look more than slightly tipsy yet. She wasn’t even going to drive, she was still too young for that, but the knowledge didn’t soothe the uneasiness clawing at the boy’s stomach. Had Vanessa and Michaela been like that, too? Just two normal girls at a party, thinking that a bit of alcohol wouldn’t hurt?

“No. There’s a reason we shouldn’t drink. Anyway, Dad would kill me if I tried.”

And he would be completely right. Sure, alcohol might have looked completely innocent, and he was quite sure that Alyssa didn’t mean anything wrong. But that didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be consequences.

Alfred found himself wondering how Alyssa would be painted if she died in a car accident as a result of being drunk. A sweet, lively girl who was short of an angel, but somehow had made a mistake?

That was what people had said about Vanessa and Michaela, after all. The postcards full of picture and eulogies had been forever imprinted in Alfred’s brain, he understood why his father had kept them from him for so many years. The mere thought made his stomach churn. Sweet, little angels of eighteen years old who had traded the chance to get wasted at a party with their own lives - and the life of a young mother who had been crossing the street at that moment. Where was the justice in that? How could people still paint those brainless brats whose idiocy had killed his mother as angels?

Looking at Alyssa’s pouty expression, Alfred understood that she could be one of those people, too. And so were probably most of the people around him at that moment. The room suddenly seemed suffocating, leaving a bad taste to the back of his throat - he wanted to be anywhere but there.

Luckily, Alyssa didn’t insist anymore.

“As you wish.” She sighed, shrugging. She got closer to Alfred, stopping only when their bodies were separated by a mere inch.

Alfred took a step back, his nerves tensing with the growing irritation. But he couldn’t be rude, Alyssa was still a girl.

“Alyssa…”

The girl followed his movement, leaning against him.

“You’re so cute when you play hard to get…”

Alyssa’s hot breath hit Alfred’s neck, invading his nostrils with a slight smell of alcohol - but he was quite certain that the girl was more alert than she was pretending.

The muscles of his neck tensed when a slender hand landed lightly on his jaw.

_Restraint. She’s a girl, you can’t be rude. Have some restraint._

Alfred firmly pushed the hand aside.

“Alyssa, no.”

_Okay, what the hell am I supposed to do now?_

Alyssa had been trying to hit on him basically from the first day she had seen him in the football team, but she had never been so bold. For how much Alfred would have liked to make things clear from day one, he knew that he shouldn’t be rude to a girl, so he had opted for pretending to be oblivious to her advances, hoping that Alyssa would get the hint or eventually grow bored. Clearly, that had been a mistake.

Alyssa pouted, but instead of giving up she clung to him.

“Come on…” she breathed against his neck.

Alyssa’s breasts were pressing against Alfred’s chest - luckily, she seemed to be wearing a bra, but it was still too close for comfort.

_Okay, that’s it. Enough is enough._

“Alyssa, cut it out!” he snapped, grabbing the girl by her shoulders to push her away.

Alyssa blinked at him, batting her eyelashes.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” she sounded sincerely confused, but that didn’t ease Alfred’s annoyance.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Trying to be sensitive had brought him nowhere, if anything, it had made things worse, so it was time to clear the issue.

“Alyssa, I don’t like you. Romantically, I mean.”

_Whoops, too blunt._

Alfred could almost hear his father’s voice in his ears, reprimanding him because girls always deserved to be treated kindly, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He had _tried_ to be kind, but Alyssa had brought it upon herself, so she needed to hear it clearly.

Alyssa took a step back, gaping at him.

“W-what? W-why are you saying this, I…”

Alfred _knew_ that he should tread carefully, but Alyssa’s behaviour had drained every inch of his patience, and his nerves were frazzled from the entire situation.

“Are you really asking this?” he asked drily, irritation building up behind his temples. “Come on, how should I like you? We have nothing in common! And you don’t even like me, anyway - you just like the popularity boost I would give you because I’m the quarterback!”

Alfred realized that he had gone too far as soon as the words went past his lips, but it was too late to take them back. Alyssa gasped, recoiling as if she had been hit.

“W-what?” she asked shakily, “How… how can you say this? That’s… that’s not true, of course I like you, I…”

Alyssa’s words trailed off as she took a deep breath.

Alfred had to divert his eyes as a pang of guilt flared up in his stomach. Tolys was always telling him how Alyssa was a shrewd manipulator, how she had been the one behind the heavy insults in Natalya’s locker the previous year, that Yelena had been only the scapegoat, and Alfred was inclined to believe him, but nothing had been proved. And at that moment, Alyssa looked genuinely shaken.

_Has it been only a huge misunderstanding? Could she be just a spoiled brat who truly has a crush on me?_

It could make sense - after all, while Alyssa surely didn’t approve the nerdiest part of Alfred’s personality, he was aware of being handsome, and the visibility being a quarterback gave him made him popular with girls.

Alfred couldn’t deny that he had messed up. Once again, his father had been right, he couldn’t be so blunt with girls… he opened his mouth, trying to come up with an apology, but Alyssa preceded him.

The girl took a deep breath, clenched her fists and raised her chin, locking eyes with Alfred.

“It’s because of that cheap stupid whore, isn’t it?” she hissed, her nostrils quivering with rage.

“Uh… sorry, what?” asked Alfred, taken aback.

None of the other cheerleaders ever hit on him because they knew that Alyssa had her eyes on him, and he hadn’t flirted with anybody recently… maybe some girls he didn’t know had winked at him or something like that, but Alfred couldn’t recall anything that would justify such a reaction…

“You know what I’m talking about!” shrieked Alyssa, stomping her feet on the floor. “I cannot fathom how you have lost your head for her, she’s so plain… but I guess that a pair of big boobs is all that’s needed to turn heads. And I bet that she spreads her legs open for you, those losers you still hang out with and the entire hockey team, doesn’t she? She might look like a sweet, naïve Canadian girl, but she’s just a filthy slut!”

Alfred’s blood ran cold in his veins. Any shred of compassion faded as he took in Alyssa’s words. He hadn’t missed the insult to his friends that had just proved how vapid she was - but the other insult was far worse. There was only one Canadian girl they both knew.

The boy clenched his fists and took a shaky breath, desperately trying to restrain himself.

“Don’t you _dare_.” He hissed, glowering at Alyssa with all the disgust he could convey.

The girl took a step back, her eyes widening, and Alfred followed her.

“Don’t you dare insults my friends. They’re wonderful people, and you’re just a moron if you can’t see this. And more importantly… don’t you _ever_ dare say this bullshit about Maggie again! How can you even _think_ something like this?! Let me tell you one thing: Maggie is a thousand times better than you. I like spending time with her because she’s sweet, she’s smart, unlike you, we have stuff we can talk about, but above all, she’s a wonderful person. I’ve never seen her being anything but kind, she would have never tried to pressure me to get drunk at a party, and she would never go out with someone only because he could make her popular! And she would never, ever say these filthy lies about anybody else!”

Alfred realized that he was yelling right in Alyssa’s face, who was gaping at him, paler than he had ever seen her.

Using every inch of his will, the boy straightened up and stepped back.

“And for the record, Maggie’s way more beautiful than you are. And it has little to do with boobs - she’s one of the most beautiful girls I’ve ever seen, she doesn’t need to cover up her face with all that makeup - but since you’re the one who brought that up, she doesn’t need bras so padded that they would give _me_ boobs!”

Without waiting for Alyssa’s reaction, Alfred turned his back to her and strode away, the blood still pounding in his ears. The night had been officially ruined.

Still seething with rage, the boy got out in the balcony and kicked down an empty can of beer. How could anybody say such ugly things about Maggie?

A hand landed on his shoulders.

Alfred whirled around, raising his fists as the adrenaline in his veins sang for a fight, but it was just Mikkel. An unusual serious expression darkened his features.

“I saw what happened,” he stated immediately, “You’re lucky because the music was high and half of the people are so wasted that they won’t remember anything tomorrow, but I think your yells might have reached the neighbours… by the way, Alyssa had it coming, she’s such a bitch… and Maggie is too nice, nobody should speak about her that way. Honestly, I would have done the same, but I guess you’re not in the mood to stay here anymore… should I drive you home? I didn’t drink anything.”

Alfred nodded wordlessly, a wave of gratitude washing over him.

He knew why Mikkel was the captain: aside for being an excellent player, he had a wonderful way with his team-mates, for how loud and disruptive he looked he was so attentive… Alfred hoped that he could be the same way when he would take over the team the following year. More importantly, however, Mikkel wasn’t just his captain - Mikkel was a friend, and Alfred knew that he could rely on him.

Without other words, Alfred followed Mikkel to the parking lot, and while some stares followed them the hard expression on both their faces was enough to avoid any question.

Only once in front of the car, Mikkel turned back to Alfred.

“Padded bra, uh?” he asked, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Alfred shrugged and ran a hand through his hair.

“Well yeah… I mean I cannot really tell, but Feliks said that once, and Feli said he was right… and uhm, they’re more observant with this sort of thing, so I guess they’re right?”

In any other circumstance, Alfred would have felt guilty for the jab - wearing a padded bra wasn’t something he would have ever thought to criticize, and surely none of his business. Alyssa, however, had had it coming.

Mikkel burst out laughing, and Alfred surprised himself in following him. After all, who cared about Alyssa? At least, she would stop annoying him, and the people who were important to him were others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **[1]** I used the formal ‘vous’ here because I thought Maggie should do that, with an adult she doesn’t know? I hope I’m not wrong!
> 
> I hope Francis was all right! From now on, he’s going to be a fairly important character in this story.
> 
> Francis’s mother is Nyo!France (Marianne Bonnefoy), and she will have a cameo at the end of the story, but she doesn’t have a big role.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And if you did or have anything to say please consider commenting - it really helps reassuring me that what I write isn’t complete crap haha


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so sorry for taking so long! And I didn’t even correct the previous chapters as I had promised… I have a lot going on right now. But I promise that I won’t give up on this story, and I thank all of you for the support, especially, the comments, they mean a huge lot to me.
> 
>  **Warnings:** references to child abuse.
> 
> English isn’t my first language, and as usual I apologize for the mistakes.  
> Again, dialogues in italics mean that Maggie and Francis are speaking French. From now on, keep in mind that they mostly speak French between them.

The first thing Maggie became vaguely aware of was a pleasant cosiness. The mattress under her side was firm yet soft as a cloud, and her body was wrapped in smooth, clean-smelling sheets. The sunlight filtering under her closed lids told Maggie that it was morning, but she was too comfortable to get up. Still half asleep, the girl turned on the bed, only for an unexpected burst of pain to rip through her abdomen at the movement. Gasping, Maggie curled in foetal position, clutching her stomach as she registered at the same time that her entire body was awfully sore…

_‘And since when do I have such a big bed?’_

That wasn’t her bed. That wasn’t even her bedroom.

Maggie jerked up, ignoring the way her stomach cramped and her entire body protested with fierce jolts of pain at the movement, as the events of the previous evening flooded her mind.

_‘I’m not in my room because I’m not even home. I’m at Francis’s.’_

Maggie cautiously inched towards the edge on the bed and lowered her feet on the smooth wooden floor.

_‘How long did I sleep?’_

She didn’t have a clock with her. From the light filtering through the curtains, Maggie could tell that it was morning, but she didn’t know how late. Birds were chirping outside, and a car roared in the distance, but aside from that, everything was silent.

Gathering courage with a deep breath, Maggie finally got to her feet and stretched her arms and legs. Every movement tugged painfully at her muscles, and her stomach, in particular, answered with an intense flash of pain, but it wasn’t unbearable, and she was sure that nothing was broken.

_‘I really got off easy.’_

Maggie let her eyes wander over the room until they landed on a mirror next to the wardrobe, where the girl hurried to look over herself more closely. The bruises on her arms and legs where now darker and sported hints of sickly green that made Maggie grimace, but there was nothing she could do about them. In an unexpected contrast, the girl’s face looked fresh and rested, the skin under her eyes for once missing the faint shadows Maggie was accustomed to. Even with her hair still a bit in disarray, the girl looked better than she had in a long time, excluding the bruises.

She also _felt_ better, she realized with a pang of surprise. While her entire body ached and her abdomen was unpleasantly contracted, her stomach churning with slight tendrils of nausea, Maggie didn’t feel as exhausted as she usually did. She wasn’t exactly full of energy, but surely more rested than she had been in a while.

_Just how long did I sleep?_

There was only one way to find out. Taking a deep breath to calm down the apprehension that had already started creeping over her, Maggie resolutely walked to the door. Her hands fumbled a moment with the key before she managed to open it. Once out in the corridor, the girl stopped short.

_What now?_

She supposed that she could go downstairs, but she had no way to know if Francis was already awake… maybe she should check his bedroom. But no, Maggie realized with a shake of her head, that would’ve been rude.

Not knowing what else to do, the girl cautiously ventured along the corridor. Once she reached the stairs, her ears caught a faint melody coming from downstairs. Francis had to be awake, then.

With more confidence, Maggie climbed down the stairs and followed the song - a slow French song she wasn’t familiar with. The music led her to a room that cast a pleasant smell of baked sweets, the kitchen, most likely.

Maggie stopped at the doorway.

Just like the rest of the house, the kitchen was big and well-lit, with a big table in the middle and cabinets made of light, smooth wood hanging from the walls. Francis was standing in front of Maggie, wearing a white shirt and a pair of dark blue trousers, with his hair in a loose tail like the previous day. He was whistling the motive of the song as he fumbled with the stoves.

Maggie hesitated, and before she could think of what to do Francis turned towards her. A smile immediately blossomed on his face.

_“Bonjour, chérie! Did you sleep well?”_

Maggie nodded, doing her best to reciprocate with a warm smile of her own.

_“Oui… thank you so, so much for everything. I don’t really know how to thank you…”_

Now that the girl was awake and completely lucid, the realization of how embarrassing the situation was had started settling in, making her stomach twist in complaint.

_“Excellent! And there’s no need to thank me. But please, sit down! I’ve almost finished preparing your breakfast…”_

Maggie’s eyes widened with surprise.

 _“Oh, no, th-there’s no need for that!”_ she stammered hurriedly, _“You’ve already done so much for me, Monsieur Bonnefoy, I could never…”_

Francis, however, turned a deaf ear to any complaint, and some minutes later Maggie found herself sitting at the table, with a crepe on her plate and the stern warning to call her benefactor _‘just Francis’_.

Realizing that she had no choice over the matter, the girl cautiously cut an angle of the crepe and brought it to her mouth. Both the taste and texture were wonderful, neither too strong nor plain. After Maggie complimented Francis, the man offered her some tea and started chatting about the superiority of French cuisine over American cooking.

Maggie stayed silent as she listened to him, savouring every single bite. She didn’t remember the last time she had been allowed to have breakfast in such a relaxed fashion. Sometimes, when he was in a particularly good mood, Steve would let her have pancakes with maple syrup, but the atmosphere was a bit tense, never letting Maggie the time to properly enjoy her meal.

Actually, she was probably eating too slowly, but Francis didn’t seem bothered by that, and when the girl tried quickening her pace the man rebuked her gently.

_“There’s no hurry, ma chérie. It’s Sunday, and it’s not even 9… You have all the time you want.”_

Francis’s kindness was even more confusing, but Maggie followed his advice, trying to stall what was going to come after breakfast. For how much she tried to find an explanation, however, she still couldn’t wrap her mind around what had happened. She couldn’t understand _why_ Francis had acted like that.

Part of her mind suggested that it was because he was a kind-hearted person - leaving a young girl alone in the cold wasn’t something he could tolerate. And in spite of that, nothing had forced him to go so far. He could have just called the police and let them handle it, instead, he had personally taken care of Maggie.

Of course, Francis knew nothing about her. He didn’t know that she didn’t deserve his kindness, and from what Alfred said about him he had to enjoy taking care of children…

 _“Would you like another one?”_ Francis asked, bringing her back to reality.

_“No, thanks. It was delicious, but I couldn’t eat another bite…”_

Maggie wasn’t used to eating to so much at breakfast, and her bruised stomach wasn’t helping, protesting with painful jolts against the added content.

Luckily, Francis didn’t look offended at her refusal.

_“All right. I’ve left you a new toothbrush in the bathroom, and your clothes are dry. You can use anything you need. I’ll be in the living room when you’re done, do you remember where it is?”_

Millions of questions were whirling inside Maggie’s mind, but the girl swallowed them down and nodded, following Francis’s advice. The anxiety in the anticipation of what was going to happen clenched her stomach, making the girl wish to be as slow as she could to postpone the confrontation, but it clashed with the need of being as little troubles as she could.

The latter finally prevailed as soon as Maggie noticed that her clothes weren’t on the radiator where she had left them - they had been folded over a stool after having been washed and dried. Quickly, the girl dressed up, washed her face and teeth and brushed her hair, automatically tying them in her usual twintails. Her stomach was churning, maybe eating hadn’t been such a good idea… but she would have given Francis another reason to worry.

Maggie pressed a hand against her stomach and took a deep breath, looking with determination at her reflection on the mirror.

_‘This is going to be hard. I need to stay calm.’_

Focusing on keeping her breathing even, the girl finally got out of the bathroom and strode downstairs.  Francis was sitting on an armchair facing the sofa. A book was open in his hands, but he didn’t look like he was reading, and as soon as Maggie appeared on the doorway he raised his head.

 _“Sit down for a moment, please.”_ He said with a nod towards the sofa.

There was something forced in his smile, and his forehead was slightly furrowed.

Maggie sat down on the edge of the sofa, keeping her back straight and her hands over her knees.

 _“What do you want to do now?”_ Francis asked, keeping his voice pleasantly warm.

Maggie bit her lower lip.

_“I think… I think that Steve should be awake by now. But I don’t think he must have realized I’m not home… I mean, it’s Sunday, I would normally be still asleep…”_

That wasn’t true, she would have still woken up early to make sure to have breakfast waiting for Steve, but it sounded plausible.

_“And even if he weren’t awake, I think he would wake up if somebody rang the bell, he should be more alert than yesterday…”_

And then? How would he react? Maggie couldn’t even start to imagine it. He had been so drunk… would he even remember kicking her out?

Maggie’s stomach gave a painful lurch, but the girl knew that she couldn’t stay there. The more she postponed the moment she would have to face the consequences of her actions, the worse it would be.

While Francis nodded, there was something guarded in his expression.

_“Do you want to go home now?”_

Maggie immediately answered with a nod.

_“Oh, of course! I mean, you’ve already done so much for me, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough for this, but I don’t want to impose any longer, I…”_

_“Marguerite,”_ Francis cut her off, _“You absolutely don’t have to worry about this. I’m not lying. I assure you that you didn’t cause any trouble. But I need to ask you a question before sending you away… and I know that I’m basically a stranger, but I beg you to answer sincerely.”_

While Francis’s voice didn’t lack of warmth, there was no mistaking the stern note. The man took a deep breath as Maggie stiffened on the sofa, burying her fingernails on the skin of her knees. She knew what was about to happen.

_“I didn’t want to insist yesterday because you looked very shaken, but I cannot in good conscience let you go before asking you this… is everything all right home?”_

_“Sweetheart, you can tell me the truth,”_ had murmured the nurse, her eyes sweet and full of sympathy, as she gently applied ice to Maggie’s broken ribs. _“Did you truly fall off a tree? Are you really sure that nobody hurt you?”_

Steve had been out of hearing range, talking with the doctor. Maggie could have told her everything.

But instead of doing that, she had tilted her head to a side, her eyes wide in confusion. “ _What? Of course I fell off a tree. Why would anybody hurt me?”_

That had been the first time Maggie had been asked that question. Her mother had been dead for three months. Other times had followed - not so many, since Maggie had always been so good at passing under the radar and Steve never brought her to the hospital unless it was something truly serious - but her answer had never changed.

And that time, sitting on the comfortable sofa of Francis’s elegant living room, was no different from the others.

Maggie could have been truthful. She could have burst into tears and confessed everything and begged Francis for help, and she knew with absolute certainty that he would have answered her plea.

But she didn’t.

With well-honed ability, the girl forced her body to relax and tilted her head to a side, blinking innocently.

_“W-what? Uhm, yeah, of course everything is all right… I mean, it’s not perfect and sometimes I get into arguments with Steve, but that’s… normal, right?”_

Her words weren’t enough to convince Francis.

 _“Please, be sincere.”_ The man replied, concern seeping through his voice. _“Yesterday… was it truly an accident? You were out in the cold, completely drenched… If hadn’t seen you…”_

Maggie gasped and recoiled, her eyes widening as if she had just grasped the real meaning of Francis’s question.

_“Oh! oh, no. No. Of course it was an accident! Oh my God- I. Oh. Oh, I’m so sorry for this misunderstanding… yes, I can see how strange it may look, but… Oh, God. Steve would never do that!”_

Maggie took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair, flashing Francis a small, embarrassed smile.

_“Oh God… I hadn’t even thought… but yes, I can see how it might be easy to misunderstand this. The thing is… Steve is prone to getting horrible migraines. And when he does, the only thing he can do is to lie down and take some meds, but they make him really sleepy… that’s why he didn’t answer. He might have also been wearing ear-plugs, the wind might have bothered him… but really, that’s the only reason he didn’t answer. And I… I just went to take out the trash, really. But in our old house, the door could be opened again unless you closed it with the keys, and I’m still not used to the fact that this one can’t. I always forget to take the keys for something as simple as taking out the trash. That’s… that’s all there is to it, I swear.”_

Francis’s features didn’t betray any emotion as he nodded slowly.

Maggie offered him another shy, hesitant smile, her stomach churning with self-loathing. She was aware of how horrible she was for manipulating people that way. Far too often. However, she didn’t have any choice. And it wasn’t only because Francis was a far too kind stranger who didn’t deserve to be dragged into that mess, it was mostly because. Admitting it wasn’t pleasant. It was painful. But Maggie _knew_ that Steve was right: she deserved the punishment. She should be, if not perfect, at least unnoticeable, but she wasn’t. And Steve… Steve didn’t deserve her dragging him down. He shouldn’t be forced to take care of her - he wasn’t Maggie’s _father_ \- and in spite of that, he was doing it. Even if Maggie was useless - _unneeded_. She should have never even been born. Nobody had ever _wanted_ her, she was there just because her mother was _‘a far too kind girl with a strong morality, who loved playing the role of a good Samaritan and had to give a possibility even to people who didn’t deserve it,’_ as Steve had so adamantly explained her. That was the only reason Maggie was alive. And the least she could do was to try to cause as few troubles as she could. That was the only thing Steve asked her… and it should be _easy_ , but Maggie constantly messed up.

At the same time, Francis didn’t deserve his kindness being repaid with lies. Maggie held no illusion over that. She was an awful, despicable person - and she couldn’t help but be like that.

Francis didn’t look completely convinced by her words, but a bit of tension had left his shoulders, and his eyes had lost their determined glint. At least, the seed of doubt had been planted.

 _“All right,”_ Francis replied with a faint smile that didn’t reach his eyes, _“I apologize for insinuating something that wasn’t true. But…”_ after a slight hesitation, the man bent forward, closer to Maggie. _“I want you to know that if you ever want to talk, I’ll be here to listen. And if you ever need something - anything - don’t hesitate to ask.”_

There was something in his voice, in his features, that told Maggie that his words were sincere. The bubble of warmth that blossomed in her chest almost brought tears to her eyes.

But Maggie held them back and nodded, lowering her head.

_“I… I don’t really know how to thank you. Seriously, I… you’ve already done so much for me, and… I don’t even know what to say, I… Thank you. I should really go back home now.”_

The girl was already getting up, her stomach painfully coiled, trying to avoid Francis’s eyes. She knew that the man wasn’t completely convinced, he was too smart to be played like that, but she was reasonably sure that he wasn’t going to do anything. And hopefully, he wasn’t going to mention anything to Arthur or Alfred, they would immediately understand that it was about her… but she shouldn’t worry about that. She had already done all she could.

 _“Of course, I’ve already taken enough of your time.”_ Francis commented with a light smile. _“But please, at least let me walk you to your door. A real gentleman would never let such a sweet young lady go home alone.”_

In spite of the light intonation of his voice, Maggie didn’t miss the cold glint in Francis’s eyes. Steve was going to be subjected to a careful scrutiny.

Maggie would have wanted to refuse, but she didn’t know how to do it without increasing Francis’s suspicions. Besides, even if Steve might not remember shutting her out, he wouldn’t be drunk anymore, so he would control himself in front of a stranger.

Maggie nodded and thanked Francis with a shy smile, blushing.

The two quickly walked the few metres separating them from the house next door. They had to make an odd picture - a gorgeous man, dressed with unmistakable simple elegance, next to a plain girl who walked barefooted and with her shins covered in bruises.

Once in front of the door, Maggie hesitated for a moment, her chest clenching - but Francis was behind her. Straightening her back, the girl extended her hand and rang the bell. The sound immediately reverberated inside the house.

Maggie held her breath. Everything was silent.

The girl had started fearing that Steve was still asleep, and behind her Francis took a step forward, inhaling as if he were about to say something.

At the same moment, heavy steps thumped inside the house until they reached the door, that was violently slammed open.

“What the fuck…” Steve immediately started swearing, unhappy at being forced to get up so early, but as soon as his eyes landed on the people waiting for him outside of the door, he fell silent, his features shifting from anger to confusion.

Staring at him, Maggie couldn’t help but notice the contrast with Francis. While the Frenchman was impeccably neat, her step-father had answered the door wearing the same jeans as the previous day, that sported visible stains, and he had to have quickly thrown over himself a wrinkled flannel shirt that he had buttoned up unevenly. His mousy brown hair was almost the same length as Francis’s, but messy instead of wavy, and some oily strands escaped the unkempt ponytail he had tied it in. Steve’s chin was covered by a short, uneven stubble, and heavy bags were visible under his reddened eyes. If anything, he played quite well the role of a person who had been feeling sick the previous evening - even if the cause of his ailment was different from the one Maggie had said.

After some moments, Steve managed to collect himself enough to talk.

“Maggie? What…”

He looked genuinely confused, his eyes darting from his step-daughter to the stranger standing behind her.

_Too drunk to remember._

“Yes, I know that you thought I was still sleeping,” intervened Maggie, taking charge of the conversation before Steve could betray himself. “But… You see, yesterday, after you went to lie down because of your migraine, I went to take out the trash, but I forgot the keys so when the wind closed the door behind me I got locked out… I tried ringing the bell, but you didn’t hear it…”

A flicker of understanding went through Steve’s eyes as Maggie talked.

“Oh…” he muttered as the girl’s words dawned on him.

His features slowly shifted into a mask of horror. Without warning, he strode from the door and towards Maggie, grabbing her by the shoulders as his eyes swept over the girl’s entire body.

“Oh Jesus, are you all right?” he asked anxiously, sweeping Maggie’s bangs away from her forehead. “Oh God it was so cold outside… How…”

The grip that was squeezing Maggie’s chest slackened, letting the girl finally relax. Steve _hadn’t_ meant to leave her outside, after all. Just like she had imagined.

“It’s all right.” Maggie reassured her step-father with a slight smile. “You see… I was very lucky, I…”

Her voice trailed off as Maggie’s stomach clenched again. She had been so focused on Francis that she hadn’t thought about what she was going to tell Steve…

Only at that moment, the man seemed to remember Francis’s presence.

“And who the hell is this man?” he growled, straightening his shoulders as his hands left Maggie’s body.

The girl grimaced internally at his language as her stomach gave a painful lurch.

_‘Now comes the hard part.’_

Before Maggie’s frozen brain could come up with an answer, Francis stepped fluidly to her side.

“Let me introduce myself,” He said affably, extending his hand towards Steve. “I’m Francis Bonnefoy, your neighbour. It’s a real pleasure to finally meet you.”

Steve did nothing but stare at the other man’s elegant hand.

“And what the hell were you doing with her?” he finally spat out, folding his arms across his chest.

Maggie’s chest was so tight she could barely breathe.

“Wait, please!” she said, reaching for Steve’s arm with a hesitant hand. “Mr Bonnefoy saw me yesterday when I was outside... since ringing the bell wasn’t waking you up he let me use his phone, but that wasn’t working either, so he let me sleep in his guest room.”

Silence enveloped the tree of them as the meaning of Maggie’s words downed on Steve.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS BULLSHIT?!” he roared, pushing Maggie behind him as his other hand rose, clenched into a fist and ready to hit. “SHE’S A FUCKING _CHILD_ , YOU FUCKING PERVERT, WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!”

“Steve, please!”

Her throat almost closed off by panic, Maggie grabbed Steve’s arm as Francis took a step back, raising both his hands in a placating manner.

Steve froze. Maggie could feel his tense muscles trembling under her hands as if Steve wanted nothing more than pushing her away and leap at Francis, but the man was too sober not to realize how delicate the situation was.

“I see how this situation can be easily misunderstood,” Francis started saying evenly, “But I swear that I did absolutely nothing to Marguerite. I would never even think about touching such a young girl. Yesterday I was just checking the mail when I was her sitting under the porch, so I thought she might have slipped and was too hurt to stand, this is why I approached her. The rest went exactly as Marguerite said. She told me that she didn’t have any relative or acquaintance she could call, and she was completely drenched, I couldn’t possibly let her out in the cold… Since I have a spare room, I let her sleep there. But this is all that happened, I swear.”

Maggie took note with relief that Francis hadn’t contested the lie about the phone. Was it because he had realized that Steve didn’t look stable, or to sound more innocent?

Steve snorted. While Maggie was sure that he wasn’t convinced yet, his posture slightly relaxed, and he brought down his fist.

“It this how it truly went, then?”

Maggie hurriedly nodded, her heart beating so wildly that she almost feared she was going to faint.

After a moment of tense silence, Steve cleared his throat.

“Well, I guess I should thank you then, Mr Bonnefoy.” He muttered, lingering in a clearly not complimentary way over the syllables of Francis’s surname.

Francis didn’t seem to catch it.

“Oh, there’s no need to thank me!” he answered gently, “I just did what I should… I couldn’t possibly let a young girl alone in the cold, could I?”

Steve grunted in a less-than-friendly way, but at least he didn’t look like he was about to jump at Francis anymore. Given the circumstances of their meeting, Maggie couldn’t ask for anything better.

Francis wasn’t discouraged by the cold reception.

“And I absolutely have to congratulate you, Marguerite is such a well-behaved girl… she clearly has an excellent upbringing, it’s so rare these days…”

Maggie was frankly impressed by how easily Francis had managed to read Steve. Taken by his pride, the man finally indulged Francis with a half-smile.

“Well, raising a girl without a mother it’s not easy… I do my best. A bit of discipline is always needed!” he commented gruffly, patting Maggie’s shoulder.

The girl was sure that Steve still didn’t trust Francis, and the odds of ever liking him were even lower - Steve never did well with the kind of sophisticated demeanour that oozed from Francis -  but he had almost completely lost the initial hostility.

Francis nodded, but the small smile he offered Steve didn’t reach his eyes. It didn’t look fake, but there was nothing of the warmth that had been there when it had been addressed to Maggie. The girl fidgeted with her hands, trying to swallow to bring relief to her dry mouth. She couldn’t understand what Francis was trying to do… and it wasn’t good. Steve was too volatile, it would take so little to re-inflate his anger…

“I give you my deepest condolences for your wife.” Francis said affably.

Maggie couldn’t tell if his contrite expression was real or as fake as the smile that had preceded it. Steve simply shrugged, he had never been good at dealing with that sort of situations.

“I can only imagine how hard it must be to raise a young girl alone…” Francis went on, “And if I may, is Marguerite the one who takes care of the house?”

“Of course she is, do I look like a woman?” Steve grumbled, stiffening. “That’s a woman’s job. But how is this your fucking business?”

Maggie bit her lower lip, her stomach coiling unpleasantly as she stared at the two men.

 _‘Please, stop here!’_ she mentally implored Francis, not daring to intervene. _‘You’re going too far! Just go home, this went as well as it could…’_

Francis, however, looked like he had everything under control.

“I’m sorry, I understand that this might have sounded indiscreet.” His apologetic smile looked completely real, he was an excellent actor. “It’s just… I was asking because until last month I had a girl coming to clean my house… but after she moved out of the city I couldn’t find anybody else.” Francis sighed dramatically. “It’s so hard to find trustworthy people nowadays… so I was wondering, wouldn’t Marguerite want a little job? I have already seen that her upbringing turned her into an honest person… I would pay her, of course.”

Maggie’s eyes widened in shock. That was the last thing she was expecting. She had already done some spare jobs of that kind… but Francis was lying, she was sure of that. His house was spotless, he clearly didn’t need anybody else to help him clean.

As surprised as the girl was, Steve needed a few moments to answer.

“Well…” he started mumbling in the end.

Maggie found herself holding her breath, unsure of the verdict. Steve had let her babysit for a young couple and clean for the old lady at the end of the street back in Canada, but Francis was a handsome, single man… on the other hand, that had to be the first time somebody complimented Steve on his parenting skills, even putting the accent on the discipline the man was so proud of.

“Maggie doesn’t have a lot of free time, between school and hockey…”

“Of course, that comes first,” Francis agreed immediately, “But it would be only a couple of times per week, and she would only have to tell me if sometimes she were too busy to come…”

Steve stroked his chin.

Maggie could almost see the screws moving inside his brain. Her working meant her having more freedom, but at the same time, it meant her having money to buy her own stuff without Steve having to pay for it and Steve having the house for himself while knowing where Maggie was. It also meant that Maggie would have less time to spend with people her age. Not that Steve would let her, but he couldn’t say no if there were school projects involved.

“What do you think about this, Maggie?” he asked in the end, taking her out of surprise.

The times she got consulted were rare - and even rarer were those when she didn’t know how she was supposed to answer. Her eyes carefully inspected Steve’s features, looking for any hint, but the man’s expression was neutral. Maybe he himself wasn’t sure of what he would prefer.

With Steve momentarily distracted from him, Francis offered the girl an encouraging smile. This time it was genuine.

Maggie bit her lower lip.

Refusing was the most sensible thing to do. She _knew_ it. Francis was too smart, too involved. He was going to keep asking questions. And she would have to keep lying to him. Francis didn’t deserve that, even less after how kind he had been. Keeping her distance would be better for everybody.

However…

The smile Francis had reserved for her was so _warm_. And his words so kind. And he spoke French with that perfect accent that sounded straight out of a movie, that reassuring language that sounded so much like _before_ , when it had been only Maggie and Chloé and everything had been so wonderful…

Maggie knew that she didn’t deserve it. She should smile gently, thank Francis for his generous offer and say that she was actually too busy between school and hockey.

But instead of doing that, Maggie found herself nodding.

“I… I’d be glad to do it. This is truly a kind offer, Mr Bonnefoy… earning a bit of money would be good. And Steve, don’t worry, I’ll promise that I’ll keep studying and my grades won’t get any worse.”

Francis nodded, clearly satisfied, as he started complimenting again Steve on what a sensible girl Maggie was.

The self-loathing scratching at Maggie’s insides only grew stronger with the realization that she didn’t regret her decision.

It was barely a few minutes later when Steve decided that he had had enough of the conversation and it was time to go back inside. He didn’t even invite Francis in for a coffee - he almost slammed the door shut in his face, but Francis didn’t let any resentment show.

Steve waited until his steps faded in the distance before turning towards his step-daughter.

Maggie’s instinct screamed to run away as fast as she could, but she stayed completely frozen, her heart threatening to explode under her ribcage as Steve stared at her.

After what felt like a century, the man rubbed his face with a hand, sighing tiredly.

“Well, that man surely isn’t right in the head,” He said, “Have you seen the way he dresses? And his hair! Where does he think he is, a Renaissance Fair?”

Steve chuckled at his own joke, shaking his head. Maggie thought that Francis looked incredibly sophisticated, but Steve came from a different background… it was probably difficult for him to understand that Francis was a nice person, not a spoiled rich man.

“And I don’t trust him. He’s surely a pervert, with that fucking accent… but probably a faggot, so you’ve got nothing to fear. And a bit of money would do you some good.”

Francis wasn’t a pervert, Maggie was sure of that, but when she opened her mouth to shyly try to correct Steve, the man shot her such a dark look that all her courage died in her throat.

“And anyway, you would probably have nothing to fear in any case.” Steve added as an after-thought, quickly looking over the girl. “What would even a man find in you?”

It was true, but the remark still stung. Maggie clenched her fists and took a deep breath, praying that Steve’s mocking session would end soon.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, though.” the man muttered unexpectedly, his voice oddly gentle. “I didn’t mean to leave you out. You know that I don’t like punishing you… but you need to learn to obey, and violence is the only way. You know this, don’t you? What you did yesterday was serious… but I only wanted to let you understand it. I was going to let you back in, I swear. But, I passed out before I could.”

Maggie nodded, suddenly light-headed with relief. It was just like she had supposed - but hearing it made her feel better.

Steve sighed again, shaking his head.

“If it wasn’t for all this alcohol… but I need it Goddamnit. I need to wind out somehow… You know this, don’t you?”

Maggie nodded obediently as her stomach flipped. She knew that the reason Steve drank so much in the first place was to relax from the burden she was. It was completely her fault.

“Well, I hope you’ve learnt your lesson at least.”

Maggie nodded, the lump in her throat so big that she could barely breathe.

Technically, she had learnt her lesson. A single thought to Alfred’s bright eyes and lively smile, however, told her that she wasn’t ready to part from them. She was going to disobey again, at least until the boy would grow tired of her.

_I’m so, horribly selfish…_

* * *

 

Arthur was sitting on his soft armchair, sipping from a cup of tea as he read over the last paragraph he had just written. It was a perfect afternoon: it was cold outside, but the inside of the house was just that right temperature that made a warm cup of tea pleasant, and whatever he was doing, Alfred was miraculously silent, leaving Arthur some time to relax.

The illusion was shattered by the doorbell’s ring.

Sighing, Arthur started mentally preparing himself to answer, but he was preceded by the thumping of Alfred’s bare feet against the wooden floor.

Arthur was still trying to gather the will to get up from the armchair when Alfred opened the door and greeted enthusiastically whoever was on the other side. Maybe it was a friend of his. Oh, that would be wonderful, Arthur could keep writing calmly and then greet them only later…

“Dad, Dad! Francis is back!”

Arthur groaned.

_‘Of course. Can I ever have a bit of luck?’_

He didn’t feel like entertaining people at the moment - let alone Francis. Hearing him prattle about France was the last thing on Arthur’s to-do list, he had just found the inspiration to write… besides, he hadn’t heard from Francis for the entire two weeks the man had spent in France, which meant he hadn’t argued with his mother. There was no need for Arthur to be subjected to his ramblings. He almost felt like dragging himself downstairs only to shut the door in front of that annoying frog’s face.

But. Of course, there was always a but. And this time, it had nothing to do with Marianne Bonnefoy’s insufferable self-absorption, but it was Alfred.

The previous evening, Alfred had come back from the party earlier than he was supposed to and in a foul mood, refusing to answer to any question. It had taken quite a lot of self-restraint, but Arthur hadn’t insisted.

Physically, Alfred was fine - he wasn’t even tired, God only knew how he did that, the boy could go on forever with the minimum amount of sleep, just like his mother - and had something truly serious happened he would have been more concerned than angry. Arthur suspected that it wasn’t more than a squabble with other kids. Besides, Alfred had been accompanied by Mikkel, and for how loud and disruptive the Danish teen was, Arthur knew that he was also trustworthy. Whatever had happened, Alfred had already talked about it with the older teen. So, Arthur had ignored the way his chest painfully clenched and he had let Alfred take refuge in his room. For how hard it was to admit it, Alfred was growing up and he needed his spaces - even if that meant chatting on WhatsApp well past his bedtime.

(No, Arthur wasn’t _stupid_. He knew that Alfred didn’t immediately go to bed when he was supposed to, the boy’s efforts to hide it were honestly pathetic. Arthur simply pretended not to notice, after all, Alfred had always needed less sleep than a common person).

Arthur hadn’t completely forgotten about what had happened, however. And even if he couldn’t personally take revenge on whoever had dared to upset his child, he was at least going to find out what had transpired.

That morning, Alfred had seemed in a better mood, but he had spent most of the day at Tolys’s, not leaving Arthur time to talk with him. He had planned to do it at dinner, but maybe Francis would help him - Alfred trusted him a lot. And even if he wouldn’t say anything, the presence of his ‘honorary uncle’ would still lift his mood.

After sending another last, mournful glance to his mug of tea and cosy armchair, Arthur rose to his feet and headed downstairs.

By the time Arthur had reached his destination, Alfred had already led Francis to the living room, and he was almost jumping around him like an overeager puppy.

“So? Did you bring me something?”

“Good afternoon, frog.” Arthur greeted him, making his way into the room without relaxing his furrowed brow. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Don’t you have anybody else to bother?”

Francis beamed at him.

“I missed you too, _mon amour_ ,” he chirped, “And do I need some ulterior motives to visit my nephew?”

Arthur bit back a sharp remark. He would have wanted to say that Alfred wasn’t Francis’s nephew, but it was true that he probably wouldn’t have existed if not for Francis’s meddling. Besides, Alfred looked genuinely excited.

_And there goes my pleasant, relaxing afternoon…_

A few minutes later, the three of them were sitting on the sofa, in front of three steaming mugs (tea for Francis and Arthur and chocolate for Alfred) and a tray of sweets Francis had brought from Paris.

Alfred was eating like he hadn’t seen food in weeks, leaving a pang of annoyance in Arthur’s mind. He couldn’t see the difference between those sweets and his own scones, that Alfred almost refused to touch.

Meanwhile, Francis was entertaining the boy with his clearly made up romantic adventures in Paris.

“But that’s enough about me,” Francis stated after a bit, winking, “I want to hear about _you_ , Alfred. Does your heart still belong to no one?”

Alfred shook his head as he took another bite of his macaroon.

“Nope. Still single.” He confirmed, rolling his eyes.

 _‘Not for lack of trying’,_ thought Arthur, remembering of how much Alfred seemed to enjoy flirting lately, but he refrained from commenting. Alfred was only fifteen, he was too young to think about that, wasn’t he?

Clearly, Francis wasn’t of the same opinion.

“Oh, well then,” He chirped, “I might have the right person for you. I don’t know if you have already met her, I think she must be around your age… she’s truly a charming girl and she’s absolutely stunning. She’s the step-daughter of my new neighbour.”

“Oh, yeah, Maggie!” Alfred interrupted him, “She’s in my grade, I know her.”

“Have you already met them?” Arthur asked at the same time, raising one eyebrow.

Francis had been back merely since the previous afternoon… but immediately introducing himself to the new neighbours would be just like him.

Francis nodded.

“So, what do you think?” he asked, winking at Alfred.

“She’s very pretty,” The boy confirmed immediately, “And she’s nice too. But why does everybody keep asking if we’re together? She’s too shy to flirt, and we’ve barely known each other for a week!”

Arthur shook his head, barely restraining a chuckle. After that candid admission, Alfred was never going to hear the end of it… Arthur didn’t know how his son could be so smart and naïve at the same time. He was growing up, yet he was still as frank and open as a child.

 _‘Where you like this too, Amy?’_ Arthur found himself thinking, his chest constricting. _‘Look at him. Look at how wonderful he’s becoming…’_

“Are you saying that you don’t like her, then?” Francis asked, feigning innocence. “Oh, that’s a pity. Such a sweet, beautiful girl….”

“Hey, don’t put words in my mouth!” Alfred immediately defended himself, blushing. “I just… uugh, why?!”

This time, Arthur couldn’t restrain the light chuckle that bubbled up his throat. So focused on observing his son’s reactions, it took him a bit to realize that there was something odd in _Francis_ ’s behaviour.

He was pocking fun at Alfred with exaggerated fake innocence, the intonation of his voice was light and his lips curled into a smile, but Arthur knew him well enough to read behind that. Francis’s posture was slightly stiff, the hand that wasn’t stroking his chin was gripping the arm of the sofa, and there was a cold glint in his eyes, all signs that he was concerned about something. Or someone.

_Maggie Williams._

Arthur was sure that she was somehow involved. Now he could see that the entire conversation had been orchestrated to subtly bring her up and see what Alfred had to say. It should have been normal - the strange thing was the way Francis hadn’t asked directly, as if not to make Alfred suspicious of something.

_What is this about?_

Francis surely didn’t have a bad opinion of Maggie herself, or he would have expressed it like he had other times. A precise idea was starting to form in Arthur’s mind - but maybe he was wrong. Francis tended to react in a very overdramatic way, after all.

Alfred’s smartphone started ringing loudly, jerking Arthur out of his thoughts. Alfred immediately jumped up.

“Must be Kiku! He told me he was going to get a new video game and call me once he had tried it… I’ll be back in a bit!” He cried out, already halfway out of the living room.

Soon after, the door of Alfred’s bedroom was slammed closed, the sound echoing through the house.

Any pretence of light-heartedness was immediately washed away from Francis’s features.

“Arthur,” he started saying, uncharacteristically serious, “What do you know about Marguerite?”

Arthur took a sip of tea before he started talking. The fact that Francis hadn’t even tried to mock him wasn’t a good sing.

“Not much, actually.” He admitted, “I met her twice, and the rest I know is from Alfred. You must already know that they moved last week from Canada - they used to live near Ottawa, if I’m not mistaken. Her step-father got a better job offer, but I don’t know what he does, only that he must be quite busy. He leaves her alone a lot, even overnight. It’s only the two of them, Maggie’s mother died a couple of years ago.”

Francis nodded, pursing his lips.

“Yes, I knew this. Why is she living with that man? Do you know what happened to her father?”

Arthur found himself biting his lower lip at the way Francis had addressed Maggie’s step-father. He had already suspected that there was something wrong, and for Francis to have immediately taken such a dislike to him…

“She doesn’t know him. Her mother got pregnant after a drunken one-night stand, Maggie claimed that she didn’t remember the man’s identity… Anyway, if I recall correctly she got pregnant during an exchange abroad and realized it only after getting back to Canada. Contacting Maggie’s father is probably impossible. And...”

Arthur took another sip of tea, trying to collect himself. He was sure that the conversation was going to take an ugly turn.

“Did you meet her step-father?”

Francis nodded, his fine features distorted by visible revulsion.

“I’ve had the pleasure, yes.” He answered succinctly, sarcasm seeping through his voice.

Arthur’s stomach twisted unpleasantly. He had already been suspecting something from Maggie’s words, the girl’s meekness and her unwillingness to criticize her step-father didn’t speak of a healthy relationship, but Francis’s words made it seem far too real.

“…And?”

Francis took a sip of tea before answering, absent-mindedly stirring the liquid.

“I couldn’t truly understand him.” he admitted, furrowing his brow. “And more importantly, I can’t understand his relationship with Marguerite. From that brief exchange he came out as a mannerless brute, but I have to admit that the circumstances were a bit peculiar…”

Arthur groaned, bringing a hand to his forehead. Of course, Steve Whatever-His-Surname-Was probably wasn’t going to win a father-of-the-year award anytime soon, but Arthur shouldn’t have forgotten that the other person involved was _Francis Bonnefoy_. Who could make quite an impression of himself without even trying.

“For the love of all that’s holy, _please_ tell me that you weren’t naked!” he moaned.

He could perfectly picture the scene: Maggie’s step-father that for some reason knocked at his neighbour’s door, only for Francis to answer without any clothes and a perverted smile, leaning on the doorway… That surely wasn’t going to attract a kind reaction.

“Of course not!” Francis snapped, his eyebrows raising in outrage. “It happened only once, and I already told you that it was a mistake! Why must you insist on bringing it back every time? And for the record, I didn’t do anything wrong. I have to admit that some of my actions might have been misunderstood, but I absolutely had no fault in that…”

Arthur downed the remaining tea in one sip, trying to brace himself for what was about to come. The hot beverage didn’t offer any solace, he would have needed something far stronger to stomach what Francis was probably about to tell him.

“If you tell me that you tried flirting with Maggie, or that you did anything that could have been interpreted as flirting, I swear to God that you’ll find yourself unable to produce any offspring, and I’ll take care of this personally.” He deadpanned, his eyes narrowing.

Francis snorted, rolling his eyes.

“Nice to know that you have such a high opinion of me. For God’s sake, Arthur, she’s a child! And maybe physically she looks a bit older than fifteen, you could easily mistake her for a sixteen or even seventeen years old, but it’s evident that she’s still very young. I don’t go after children!”

Arthur blushed slightly. His accusation had been too heavy, he knew that Francis wasn’t like that, but he wasn’t going to admit it. And there was still the fact that sometimes Francis didn’t seem to realize how much he looked like he was flirting.

Francis’s tale, however, took a completely unexpected turn. Arthur’s blood ran cold as the other man explained how he had found Maggie huddled under the porch, drenched and shivering, seemingly in shock, how he had taken care of her and her step-father’s reaction the following day.

“Bloody hell…” were the only words Arthur could utter when Francis finally fell silent, his hands clutching the mug.

A part of Arthur’s mind was trying to come up with more rational ways Francis could have handled the situation, possibly ones that didn’t involve having a teenaged girl sleep at an unknown adult man’s place, but the only thing he could truly focus on was what might have happened if Francis hadn’t noticed Maggie. A girl who was only fifteen years old, just like Alfred. The mere thought of something like that happening to Alfred was physically painful.

“Bloody. Fucking. Hell.”

What would have Maggie done, hadn’t Francis seen her? She might have gone to Francis of her own will, asking to borrow the phone. Arthur would call Gilbert because he knew how to pick locks, but a normal person would probably call the fire department. To avoid them breaking down the door, since somebody was actually home, Maggie could have asked somebody to put her up for the night. She could have called _them_ , for example, Arthur would have never left her outside…

At the same time the thought crossed Arthur’s mind, the man knew with absolute certainty that Maggie would never do something like that. Not the same Maggie who had apologized for almost ten minutes for a car ride after having almost fainted.

“Sweet Lord, Francis… She could have _frozen to death_ if you hadn’t spotted her!”

Francis nodded with participation and opened his mouth to say something, but Arthur preceded him.

“I don’t think you understand that I’m not exaggerating. The first time I met her she almost fainted on Alfred, she hadn’t had lunch and I believe she hadn’t been eating regularly for a couple of days, at least, but she kept apologizing… and I’m quite certain she wasn’t going to ask for help, even if she had probably realized she was about to faint. That child doesn’t have any self-preservation instinct…”

Francis paled, his eyes wide with concern.

“She fainted because she hadn’t eaten,” He repeated slowly, “Do you think…”

“That was quite understandable,” Arthur admitted, “She said that she wasn’t feeling hungry lately because she had been under a lot of stress between moving, getting into a new school, getting to know new people - in case you didn’t see it, she’s painfully shy, it must have been tough for her - and this is… plausible, in my opinion. Worrisome, of course, and any good parent should be able to stop it before such drastic levels, or at least take her to a psychologist, but it doesn’t necessarily mean that there’s something truly bad going on.”

Arthur was painfully familiar with the feeling. It had been his most faithful companion during his childhood, teenage years and part of his adulthood. The constant impression of being at the verge of drowning, the weight on his chest as he barely kept up between school, the rest of his life and his parents disapproving stares that constantly threatened to drag him under. The gut-wrenching feeling of being torn between the wish of making a life for himself and his father’s icy, unmerciful glare, the way his features were perennially tightened in disgust as if to remember Arthur that he was never going to be enough.

During those times, eating had been the last thing on his mind. It wasn’t a conscious decision, but with his stomach constantly coiled by tension and anger there had been no hunger reminding Arthur to eat.

“Of course, you would know,” Francis agreed, his features momentarily distended by a faint smile, but for probably the first time, he didn’t mock Arthur. There couldn’t be a clearer indication of how worried he was for Maggie.

“I don’t think that her step-father doesn’t let her eat,” Arthur specified, “I still think that he’s a tosser at best and neglectful at worst, but…”

“I don’t think that he kicked her out, either,” Francis sighed, “For how much I don’t like him and for how awfully rude he was, he seemed genuinely worried when he heard what happened. Accidents happen even to the best of us. But ‘a migraine’ my ass. He was clearly having the hangover of the century, and that… I don’t like it, especially not combined with how volatile his temperament seemed. And those bruises… you didn’t see them Arthur, but they looked awful, and I couldn’t even see her entire body…”

The man’s voice trailed off. His eyes were staring at the mug without looking at it, his brow knitted in concern.

“Well, she _does_ play hockey,” remarked Arthur, “And she told Alfred she was fine, but she could have lied, I think it’s quite likely. You should see Alfred after some football matches… he looks as if he has been put through the ringer. He’s also bigger than Maggie, and she’s so fair-skinned… she probably bruises quite easily.”

Francis nodded, but the creases on his forehead never smoothened down.

“I _know_ that there could be a logical explanation for everything. But I can’t let it go, Arthur. There’s… there’s something wrong in that child’s demeanour. She wasn’t even angry or scared, and that’s… that’s not normal. There’s something in her… I could tell that she had no self-esteem at all. And this isn’t normal, Arthur. You know it. She wouldn’t be like that if she had parents who took care of her.”

Arthur sighed, tiredly rubbing his eyes.

“I’m not saying that her step-father is a model father. I would be quite glad to rearrange his face, actually, and from Maggie’s behaviour and what Alfred told me I’m quite certain his behaviour could be classified as emotional abuse…”

“And he’s rude and quick-tempered.” Francis added with a huff.

Arthur shrugged.

“I’ll take your word for it. But my point is, what do you think you can do? Alert the social services?”

The grimace that crossed Francis’s features told Arthur that they were thinking the same thing. While Francis had never been personally involved with the city’s social services, he had heard enough tales from Artur himself and their other close friends to know that the level was abysmal.

“You know that they wouldn’t do anything, especially with Maggie so bent on defending her step-father. We would only make the situation worse for her.”

Francis sighed, his shoulders drooping in defeat.

“I guess you’re right, but I still don’t like it. She’s only a child, and such a sweet child… she doesn’t deserve such a horrid guardian.”

“We still can’t do nothing about it.” Repeated Arthur, pinching the bridge of his nose to guard off an impending headache. “Except for keeping an eye on her. I must admit that getting her to clean your house was a smart move…”

Silence fell between them. Francis shook his head, but he finally seemed to relax on the sofa. Arthur copied him, sighing. The situation was still making him uneasy, but there was truly nothing else they could do, and his worst suspicions about Maggie’s step-father hadn’t been confirmed.

They could work on the rest. Slowly, but they could. Alfred wasn’t going to let Maggie go, either, and if there was something Arthur knew with certainty was how much even a single good friend was going to improve the situation.

“Do you think it’s genetic?” Francis asked suddenly, tearing him away from his thoughts.

“Come again?”

Arthur didn’t like the amused smile that was tugging at Francis’s lips, nor the predatory glint in his eyes.

“Having the love of your life faint in your arms,” The man answered with fake innocence, “Alfred has taken so much after Amelia… funny how this is the same as well, isn’t it?”

…Arthur was going to murder Francis.

“It’s not the same at all, you idiot!” he snapped, “First of all, Alfred and Maggie aren’t dating. And don’t you even dare to get strange ideas, they’re children! Let them enjoy it as long as they can, for God’s sake! And I would appreciate if you stopped spreading lies, I never fainted in Amy’s arms - which you should know, since you were there!”

Francis only kept staring at him with an infuriating, satisfied smile.

“How would _you_ know? You don’t even remember what happened… But ah, it was such a fateful first meeting…”

“Well, at least I wasn’t the one who bawled all over the ER because he had somehow convinced himself that his roommate was dying of a terminal illness…”Arthur grumbled, crossing his arms.

He was never going to live down that embarrassing experience - and at the same time, it was probably what had radically changed his life for the better. It was almost funny, how such a small accident, a lucky meeting, could have such an impact on a person’s life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amelia is Nyo!America
> 
> I’ve already said it, but I’ll clarify it again because I don’t want to disappoint somebody later. Francis and Arthur are good friends, as you have probably noticed from snippets of Arthur’s thoughts they used to share the room at university and after a rocky start they grew on each other and became very supportive, but there’s nothing romantic going on between them, nor will there be in this story.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! And if you did or if you have anything to say, please consider leaving a comment :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is another chapter! In time for once :) Thanks a lot to the people who left bookmarks, kudos and especially comments on this story, I’m horribly awkward at saying thank you but your support means the world to me.
> 
> Warnings: As usual, English isn’t my first language, I apologize for the mistakes. There’s a lot of exposition in this chapter, I hope it’s not too bad…

October’s crisp air slowly gave way to November’s more rigid and rainy weather as winter came closer.

A pleasantly unexpected routine had filled Maggie’s days. Defying her expectations, her new acquaintances hadn’t forgotten about her once the novelty had died down - on the contrary, the more time passed the more the girl found herself involved in the group. By that point, Maggie had grown used to Feliciano’s improvised lunches - now that it was too cold to stay on the roof, they usually took place inside an old, unused music room - and to the afternoons spent at the park or studying together at the library. With the excuse of group projects, Maggie had even managed to spend a couple of times at Alfred’s place when Steve was home.

Alfred had become a constant presence in Maggie’s life, flooding it everyday with his cheerfulness and vitality. It was almost a dream-like sensation, part of Maggie still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that what she had been living during the last month had been real. Part of the girl was constantly waiting for Alfred to ignore her one morning, turning his back to her and refusing to answer to her greetings, but it never happened, and Maggie was slowly becoming accustomed to the thought of having Alfred around.

Of course, Maggie couldn’t claim that everything was going completely smoothly.

The girl’s heart leapt into her throat as her eyes fell on a seemingly innocent folded piece of paper when she opened her locker. Maggie could already feel her breathing speed up as her stomach coiled, but she knew that Alfred was about to arrive. She couldn’t risk him getting a glimpse of the note.

Trying to focus her thoughts on the boy’s warm smile, Maggie resolutely turned her eyes from the piece of paper and took out her books.

That day, however, Alfred never showed up. Maggie lingered a bit next to the locker, her stomach knotting with uneasiness, but she eventually had to start heading towards the class, dragging her feet.

_Has the day finally come?_

Maggie should have expected it, but the sour realization didn’t hurt any less, squeezing her lungs in an icy grip. At the same time, the girl couldn’t help but think that there was something _wrong_ in the picture. It wasn’t only the fact that Alfred hadn’t waited for her at the locker as he always did any time they didn’t share the first period, it was just… nothing about it was like Alfred. He was too kind, he wasn’t just going to ignore Maggie like that, he would probably distance himself more gradually… and seeing how he had gone out of his way to be present at her hockey match the previous day, it surely didn’t look like so.

What if there was something wrong? Admittedly, it wouldn’t be the first time Alfred was late for school. However, the previous day Mikkel had mocked the boy’s clumsiness recounting how he had ended up spilling his coke all over himself, and concentrating a bit, Maggie thought she could recall seeing a glimpse of the boy without coat… for how much Alfred always bragged about his immune system, spending an afternoon completely still and probably wet in a cold ice rink wasn’t going to cure cancer.

The girl’s suspicions were furtherly confirmed when she crossed Feliciano, who stopped her for a moment to ask if she had seen Alfred. By the time Maggie got to her class, the uneasiness in her stomach was due to a completely different cause from the beginning of the morning, but there was no time to concentrate on that.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, the girl sat down on a desk next to the window, in the second row. Little by little, people started filling the room, but Feliks was home with the flu and the desk next to Maggie remained empty.

As soon as the novelty had worn off, most people seemed to have forgotten about Maggie, they shoved her in the corridors if she wasn’t careful and looked vaguely surprised any time the girl’s presence was evidenced. Teachers didn’t fare much better. In spite of her exceptional grades, Maggie was generally so silent that she was often overlooked, and people often used a wrong name when they wanted to address to her, but she was quite used to it. Besides, even that was better than it had ever been: usually, Alfred, Feliks, Tolys or even Natalya rectified the situation before it could reach embarrassing levels.

A fit of giggles at the other end of the room caught Maggie’s attention, but as soon as she turned, the girl realized that it was only Alyssa and some friends of hers. Maggie quickly diverted her eyes, her stomach coiling unpleasantly, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid Alyssa flashing her a knowing smirk.

Even without having read the note yet, Maggie had quite an accurate idea of what it might be about.

There were other people who hadn’t forgotten about her, and they entirely consisted in Alyssa and her crew. Things had only gone downhill from that disastrous first meeting, Alyssa wasn’t even truly trying to hide her dislike towards Maggie anymore.

The latter wasn’t exactly sure of what had happened (nor had she ever dared to ask), but rumours had it that the previous month Alyssa had confessed to Alfred only to be tersely rejected. (Maggie couldn’t deny being curious about what had happened. In spite of his bluntness, Alfred was fundamentally kind, she was having a hard time coming up with a scenario that would irk him enough to snap at Alyssa). For some inexplicable reason, the other girl seemed convinced that Maggie was to blame for that.

The mere notion was laughable, and Maggie couldn’t have taken a clearer example to show how correlation does not equal causation: she _had_ been spending most of her time with Alfred, and her arrival was close to the boy rejection against Alyssa, but there was absolutely no way Maggie had anything to do with that. That wasn’t enough to stop Alyssa.

It had started quite innocently, with giggles and not-so-subtle mockeries behind Maggie’s back, and had escalated in people trying to trip the girl around the corridors or humiliate her in every way they could. Some girls had even gotten to actually making an effort in French to be able to insult Maggie without anybody noticing. The times Maggie wasn’t trying to swallow down the bile at the back of her throat or completely focused on forcing her lungs to expand normally after one of these gibes, she was almost impressed by their efforts.

The worst, however, were the notes. They had started with mostly innocent, classics jabs that shouldn’t have made Maggie’s chest clench the way they did ( _“You should die, bitch”, “Fuck off, nobody wants you”, “Go back to the hellhole you came from”,_ and similar variations) to slowly turn into allegation of sexual nature over Maggie’s activities with Alfred and sometimes even the other boys she frequented that made her stomach churn and her skin crawl. Technically, Maggie had no proofs of Alyssa’s involvement in that, but the other girl’s knowing, cruel smirk was as good as a written admission.

Ignoring all that wasn’t easy, but the kindness other people reserved for Maggie helped her bite back the tears and face the day with a smile - for the first time in many years, she wasn’t alone. No matter what happened, nobody else should be burdened by her silly problems.

The fact that Feliks that day wasn’t present, leaving Maggie at the mercy of the other girls, didn’t help her uneasiness, but in spite of her worst fears, the period went on without troubles.

The following period was World History.

At that point, Maggie was hoping to meet Alfred there, but once again, the boy was nowhere to be seen. Tolys was missing as well, but in his case, Maggie already knew that, since he had a dentist visit.

The girl absent-mindedly sunk her teeth into her lower lip as she stared at the empty desk next to hers. Alfred being late was a common occurrence, but him completely missing a day of school definitely wasn’t. Maggie was almost completely sure that he was sick, at that point.

The girl's first instinct was to try to write him a message, but she managed to stop herself with her hands hovering over the bag. Alfred might be sleeping, and she certainly didn’t want to bother him… on the other hand, not even checking on him might be mistaken for indifference, and that wasn’t the impression Maggie wanted to leave.

After a quick look around to be sure that nobody was looking at her, Maggie swiftly bent over her bag, ignoring a sharp stab of pain that hit her shoulder, and took out the phone to compose a message.

 **>** _Hi Al!  
_**>** _I hope I’m bothering you_  
**>** _but you aren’t at school today…_  
 **>** Is everything all right?

Maggie hit ‘send’ before she could second-guess herself. It certainly wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do, she tried to convince her churning stomach.

Some minutes later, while the teacher was still dwelling on the last paragraph he had explained, Maggie felt the vibration of the phone through the leather against her shin. The girl quickly looked around. Nobody was paying attention to her. Being careful to remain as subtle as she could, Maggie once again took out her phone and unlocked the screen. She had five un-read messages.

 **The Hero!  
** **_<_ ** _Maaaggieee  
_ **_<_ ** _I got sick :(  
_ _<_ _So Dad didn’t let me come to school  
_ _**<** Feliks and Tolys are missing too, aren’t they?  
_ _<_ _I’m sorry, I didn’t want to leave you all alone :(_

Maggie’s lips curved into a faint smile as she shook her head.

_‘That’s Al for you. He’s the sick one, yet he’s worrying for me…’_

Even those few words had made a bubble of warmth blossom in her chest. Maggie knew that she wasn’t supposed to use the phone in class, but a quick look around confirmed that nobody was paying attention to her…

_‘And that’s where being so unassuming pays off.’_

Her fingers quickly tapped the screen.

 **_>_ ** _Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine ;)  
**>** But how are you doing?_

She didn’t have to wait long for the answer.

 ** _<_** _I think I’m dying T^T_  
**<** _I’m too young to die T^T_  
 _**<** I hoped I could see you for one last time…_

Maggie frowned, chewing on her lower lip. Alfred could be quite melodramatic, but him being seriously sick wasn’t impossible… the mere thought made her chest clench.

Her fingers hovered over the phone, hesitating. She didn’t want to come out as too direct or rude, but…

_‘It’s Al. He won’t get offended, he could even be glad about it…’_

**_>_ ** _Do you want me to pass by after hockey?_

Without leaving herself enough time to regret the momentary burst of courage, Maggie sent the message. Uneasiness assaulted her almost immediately. If Alfred was truly sick, he certainly wouldn’t feel like seeing her… for how much Maggie wanted to check on him, it wouldn’t be right to impose it. It could be even rude, after all, Alfred wouldn’t be alone considering that Arthur worked from home…

The phone vibrated again.

 **_<_ ** _That would be cool :D  
**<** If it’s not too much troubles ofc_

Maggie’s smile was so wide that her cheeks were almost hurting. Her fingers ran over the screen.

 ** _>_** _It’s absolutely no troubles._  
**>** I’d be glad to!  
**>** and I can bring you your homework

That clearly wasn’t the main purpose of the visit, but the thought of doing something useful was helping Maggie quell down the nervous flipping of her stomach.

At that moment, the teacher called for the class’s attention, and Maggie quickly put the phone back inside the bag. Nobody seemed to have noticed her, but Alyssa had just turned, and she was staring at Maggie with her face marred by a slight frown. She certainly would have no hesitations in reporting Maggie to a teacher. Alyssa eventually seemed to lose interest and went back to chatting with her friends, but Maggie waited some other minutes before taking back the phone.

Alfred hadn’t stopped writing.

 ** _<_** _Ugh Maggie :(_  
**<** _No homework pls, have a bit of mercy :(_  
 _**<** I’m dying here, I don’t want homework…_  
 _**<** Maggie?_  
 _**<** Why aren’t you answering?_  
 _**<** Oh I hope you didn’t get in troubles…_  
 _**<** See u later!_  
 _**<** Update: Dad decided that he wants to cook_  
 _**<** We have some soup left_  
 _**<** But it will be enough only for lunch_  
 _**<** It was a real pleasure meeting you, Maggie_  
 _**<** I love you_  
 _**<** Tell everybody I love them…_

The last six messages were from a minute earlier.

A shudder ran down Maggie’s back. Arthur was a caring father and a wonderful person in general, but his cooking skills… they left much to be desired, and that was being kind. Maggie had used to think that Alfred was exaggerating when he described his father’s disastrous cooking, then she had been invited over for dinner… she was lucky to have such a good self-restraint.

Maggie hurried to type the answer.

 ** _>_** _Would you like me to cook?_  
**>** _your dad will have work to do_  
 _**>** tell him I’ll take care of your dinner_  
 _**>** Francis is teaching me how to cook, I should make something edible at least._

Maggie wasn’t very confident in her cooking skills, but if she had one certainty was that they were better than Arthur’s… the only thing the man didn’t mess up was re-heating meals, and that wasn’t even a guarantee.

The answer was almost immediate.

 ** _<_** _OMG would you truly do that??_  
_**<** That would be AWESOME :D_  
 _**<** Thank you!_  
 _**<** I will be forever in your debt_  
 _**<** I’m close to death, and one of Dad’s _ jhgbgan

Maggie frowned at the last message.

_‘What happened? Was he sick?’_

Her stomach was already twisting in concern, but before she could write something back Alfred’s icon displayed an _‘is writing’_.

Maggie sighed in relief. The boy had probably just dropped the phone, he hadn’t fainted or something like that… she was feeling quite stupid for even thinking it, actually. If Alfred were seriously ill, he wouldn’t be answering her messages.

After a surprisingly long interval that had Maggie wondering what was going on, a new message appeared on the screen.

 **_<_ ** _Maggie, this is Arthur. Don’t listen to him, he’s being his usual melodramatic self. He’s not dying, it’s just a cold, or a stomach bug at most. That he completely deserves for his idiocy yesterday, for the record. I hope he didn’t bother you or made you worry too much. And don’t worry about coming over, he’s not this sick._

Maggie stared at the screen for some moments. She was glad to finally have a confirmation that Alfred wasn’t gravely ill, but at the same time, her chest was clenching in embarrassment. She should have known that she had stepped over the line, she shouldn’t have offered Alfred to go at his place, he didn’t need her to. He had just sounded so happy…

A new message lit her phone.

 **_<_ ** _With this, I didn’t mean to imply you can’t come. Clearly, you’d be welcome, but you shouldn’t feel forced to keep Alfred company if you have something else to do. More importantly, I don’t want you to catch his cold._

Maggie’s lips curled into a smile as the girl read the text, almost light-headed with relief. Her fist intuition had been right, neither Arthur nor Alfred minded her presence. It wasn’t the first time it happened, but it was such a novelty that Maggie couldn’t truly wrap her mind around it.

The girl immediately answered.

 ** _>_** _Coming over wouldn’t be a problem, I would be glad to_  
**>** _If you don’t mind, obviously?_  
 _**>** I could come after hockey_

Maggie accurately avoided answering to the last part of Arthur’s concerns. From a sickly child, she had turned into a just moderately less sickly teen, and the odds of her catching Alfred’s cold were quite high, but it didn’t matter. Since the first day she had set foot into the new school, Alfred had been nothing but wonderful to Maggie, and if she had a single opportunity to be useful to him she wasn’t going to turn it down.

Arthur answered after clearly a bit of fumbling.

 **_<_ ** _If you’re sure about this it’s no problem, you’re quite welcome to come. And don’t let yourself be moved by his whining, bring the homework. I’ll see you later, then._

Maggie was about to answer, but a second message immediately followed the first one.

 **_<_ ** _Wait, aren’t you in class?_

In spite of the fact Arthur couldn’t see her, Maggie found herself blushing. Unsure of how to answer, she wasn’t quick enough and Arthur wrote back first.

 **_<_ ** _You shouldn’t use your phone at school! I’m glad that you’re worrying for Alfred, but you might get a detention this way!_

Maggie hesitated a moment before answering, her stomach coiling, but she ultimately decided to go for the truth.

 ** _>_** _There’s nothing to worry about_  
**>** _Nobody is paying attention to me._  
 _**>** But you’re right, I shouldn’t have used the phone_  
 _**>** I just wanted to check on Alfred…_  
 _**>** I’ll put it away now_  
 _**>** Have a good day!_

True to her words, Maggie quickly put the phone slide inside her bag and brought her attention back to the lesson. The guilt for not having paid attention loosened as soon as she realized that Mr Trevis was merely reviewing a topic he had already explained. Having already studied, Maggie didn’t need a review.

The girl knew that she should have still paid attention, but her focus quickly wavered, leaving her staring out of the window. If Alfred, Feliks or Tolys had been there she could have chatted a bit with them… the realization of how much Maggie had grown used to their presence was met with a pang of surprise.

It certainly wasn’t the first time the girl had to deal with a boring lecture, and she had never had somebody to talk with until the previous month. She would just doodle on the notebook when the boredom started becoming too intense, and most of her days were spent in solitude. Maggie was used to that, she shouldn’t be bothered in the slightest… and in spite of that, after having had a taste of how different it could be, getting back to the usual routine felt almost unbearably dull.

To make matter worse, Mr Trevis was answering for the second time to the same question. Sometimes Maggie couldn’t understand whether some classmates of hers were excellent actors when they wanted to waste time, or just plainly stupid.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Maggie clenched her fists until her nails were painfully digging into her skin.

_I shouldn’t think this. I don’t know what’s going on, how many of them would have wanted to attend a different and less demanding school and are here only because their parents forced them to. I have no right to judge anybody._

Either way, nothing changed the fact that Maggie was bored out of her mind. Sighing, the girl spared another glance at her bag. She almost wanted to take back the phone, but the mere thought of Arthur’s previous scolding made her chest tighten. She didn’t want to repeat it.

Among the notebooks, the last book Francis had lent her seemed to be staring at Maggie like an invitation to open it.

The girl straightened up abruptly, forcing her attention back to Mr Trevis. For how desperate she might be, reading a book during a lecture was a disrespect she wasn’t willing to sink down to.

The book, however, reminded Maggie of another reason for her foul mood: Francis was out of town, and he wouldn’t be back until Thursday. Which automatically translated into Maggie not being able to take refuge at his place.

Over the last month, it had become a more and more frequent occurrence, in spite of Maggie’s initial intention not to spend any more seconds than what was strictly necessary at Francis’s place. Her resolution had crumbled in merely a couple of days. Firstly, Maggie never had much to do - as she had suspected, Francis was more than perfectly capable of taking care of his own house. More often, the girl was asked to help him cook or take care of the garden, and after that, she was invited for a tea and a chat.

Maggie knew that she should refuse, but she was too weak for that, she couldn’t find the right words. Spending time with Francis was like living in a different dimension, a bubble of calm where she didn’t have to worry about anything as the man told her about France, about the places he had visited and the people he had met, all in that smooth, perfect French that brought Maggie back to the happier times of her childhood.

Francis was a writer as well, even if Maggie had never heard about him before because he wrote books meant for adults, and mostly romance. It wasn’t Maggie’s favourite genre, but after reading something the girl had been impressed by the psychological introspection and Francis’s mastery of the language. He wrote in French and cured the translation in English himself, and his prose almost read like poetry, as if Francis were playing with the words. Plot notwithstanding, Francis’s works were a pleasure to read, and the man loved talking about them and his love in general for books and literature. He also owned a rich collection of books, and he would let Maggie borrow whatever she wanted. Maggie didn’t think she had ever read so much in French.

Francis’s pleasant attitude, however, wasn’t the only reason Maggie had been spending so much time at his place, even sleeping in the guest room a couple of times. The other reason had the physical form of a statuesque, dark-skinned woman named Claudia that Maggie had found with Steve one afternoon. The mere thought made her skin crawl.

Rationally, Maggie knew that her mother had been dead for more than three years, and Steve had the right to make a new life for himself. Chloé herself would have wanted that, she would have wanted him to be happy, not still mourning her death after years. In spite of that, Maggie couldn’t ignore the feeling of _wrongness_ clawing at her insides.

Claudia didn’t belong into her home, her discarded clothes shouldn’t be over the stairs of their house. The spot on the bed next to Steve belonged to Chloé, not to Claudia. Maggie had started feeling a stranger in her own house, she rarely left her room unless she was alone, and she never looked forward to the moment she had to go back, never knowing what she would find.

On the bright side, Steve’s mood was better than it had ever been since Chloé’s death. The last serious beating went back to the day Maggie had been kicked out, only occasional blows had followed that. More importantly, Steve didn’t seem to mind her spending time at Francis’s - often, he was the one who suggested her in no uncertain terms to go and _‘bother that frog she liked so much’_ , especially if he saw his step-daughter around when Claudia was over. Maggie didn’t want to bother Francis, but on the other hand, Francis didn’t seem bothered at all - there was some sort of loneliness the girl could read in his gentle eyes. Maggie certainly wasn’t the best candidate to help with that, but even she was better than nobody at all. Or at least, that was what she told herself to ease the guilt crawling up her stomach.

In an even more unexpected spin, Steve’s new mood allowed Maggie to do something like writing a message to warn him that she would be home late, and he wouldn’t get angry as long as she did that and Steve knew that she was doing something for school.

Nothing changed for the rest of the morning. While Maggie was alone for the following period as well, Maths was more demanding, so it was quickly over.

At the ring of the bell, the girl quickly headed towards the usual lunchroom, only to be surprised by Ivan standing next to the door.

“Hello, Maggie. I was waiting for you.” He said pleasantly, but there was something hard in the lines around his eyes. “May I have a word with you?”

A weight plummeted in Maggie’s stomach. She was sure she had been playing well, she often scored and the winning goal from the previous match had been hers… of course, they had gotten to that only thanks to everybody’s work, Maggie would never dream of taking all the credit, but she _was_ contributing to team… Right?

…Ivan didn’t seem to think so. Maybe Maggie wasn’t working hard enough?

“Yeah, of course.” She answered anyway, trying to force her frozen lips into a smile.

Ivan nodded before leading her a bit further along the corridor.

“How’s your shoulder?” he asked then, slightly cocking his head.

Maggie hadn’t been expecting that question.

“Oh… fine.” She answered after a moment, automatically flexing the injured arm. It didn’t bring more than a twinge of prickling pain. “I… I already told you yesterday. I didn’t hit the board that hard…”

“It didn’t look like so,” Ivan disagreed with a shake of his head.

Maggie was already aware of that. The scuffle that had broken out after another player had slammed her against the boards had involved almost the entire team, and things hadn’t been much better out of the ice - she had been told that Alfred had needed to be restrained by three people, and Ludwig hadn’t lifted a finger to help them.

“I know,” Maggie muttered, lowering her head as her stomach coiled with shame. “I’m sorry for the troubles.”

“This isn’t the problem,” Ivan interrupted her, “These things happen. What I want to know is _why_ you didn’t avoid him. I know you’re faster than that, and I know you saw him coming. Why didn’t you move out of the way, then?”

Maggie was completely at loss. She opened and closed her mouth, not knowing what to say.

“What… what do you mean?” she croaked feebly, “I… but I scored! That’s… that’s why I didn’t move out of the way! I wouldn’t have scored if I had moved! I…”

“You would have had another chance to score.” Ivan interrupted her sharply. Maggie had never heard him sound so stern, his contracted features were almost scary. “Maggie, I let you play because you’re an excellent player. You’re fast and you have a good instinct. However, you have to be aware of your limits. You’re smaller than most of us, you could be hurt more easily. And I can only let you play as long as I’m sure that you’re going to take care of yourself. We don’t need a martyr, we need a reliable team-mate. I know that you can be that. But, I won’t be responsible for you getting hurt. You’re one of our best players, and I wouldn’t like to let you go… but if you keep throwing stunts like that you’re off the team.”

Ivan’s words were like a punch in the stomach. Maggie fumbled in search of words, her eyes wide as they stared at Ivan’s hard features. She knew that there was no changing his mind, but she had to try.

“But… But I…” she stammered, desperately trying to hold back the tears that were starting to press against her lids.

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Said Ivan, reaching out to pat the girl’s hair as his features softened. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. I _don’t_ want you out of the team, Maggie. I love playing with you, I didn’t lie when I said you’re the best player in our team. I’ve been too harsh, haven’t I? I should let Eduard deal with this sort of things…”

Ivan’s round eyes communicated only genuine regret.

Feeling like a fool, Maggie sniffled and offered him a faint smile. She couldn’t believe how pathetic she could be. Ivan had any right to scold her, why was she about to cry?

“I… I’m sorry,” Maggie muttered, unable to completely hide the trembling in her voice. “I’ll do better next time…”

Ivan sighed.

“Well, this didn’t go as well as I had hoped. Chin up! You don’t have to cry. I was just worried, you know? I don’t want you getting hurt. But it’s fine as long as you’re more careful next time. Come on, let’s go eat, the others must be waiting for us.”

The boy turned and started heading towards the room. Maggie followed him, desperately trying to get her breathing under control and clenching her fists to keep her hands from trembling. She was shaky all over, her head was almost spinning, but she knew that she couldn’t show it to anybody else, or they would worry. Maggie almost wanted to slap herself for how utterly pathetic she was being.

By the time she and Ivan reached the lunchroom, the girl had managed to regain a bit of composure. Ivan shot her a glance before opening the door, making the wall of Maggie’s throat tighten again, but she still managed to smile at the occupants of the room.

The girl was surprised to find Lukas, Emil and Mikkel sitting on the floor among the others, and the confusion quickly turned into embarrassment when she realized that it was because they had wanted to check on her. Ivan’s scolding sounded more reasonable with each passing moment.

Maggie didn’t feel like eating, her stomach was completely coiled on itself and every bite she took dropped with the weight of a brick. She would probably have to throw up soon.

Luckily, the lunch didn’t last long. Feliciano, Ludwig and Kiku had to leave earlier because they needed to talk with a teacher about the newspaper club, Mikkel had a scheduled appointment with a counsellor to start talking about his college applications and nobody questioned Maggie when she left earlier, all her willpower concentred on not wrapping her arms around her complaining stomach and draw attention to it.

Natalya didn’t ask any question when the girl got to the following class, but she had saved the seat next to her for Maggie. That was about the extent of their relationship. They surely weren’t friends, Maggie had the lingering sensation that Natalya despised her and often remarked on how she should be more assertive. On the other hand, after the hockey match, Natalya has never been too blunt, no more than she was with Tolys or Feliks, which seemed like a positive note.

The other positive fact in sitting next to Natalya was that even Alyssa and her posse steered away from her. Maggie really couldn’t blame them.

While Natalya and Maggie didn’t truly interact, the rest of the afternoon passed quickly and soon the girl found herself on the ice rink. After the previous afternoon, however, most people were exhausted and a couple of players were home with the flu, so Eduard let them go earlier. For once, Maggie didn’t mind. After a quick shower and having dried her hair, the girl was out of the changing room and in the street, her mind already projected towards what she was about to do.

The thought of being finally useful to Alfred filled her with an odd giddiness, she could hardly stand still.  The entire bus ride passed by in a flash, and before she knew it Maggie found herself in front of Alfred’s door, with her fingers hovering over the doorbell.

A sudden wave of self-doubt washed over her, making her chest tighten and her hand freeze. Could she truly do anything to help, after all? Alfred was so nice that he could have faked his happiness just not to upset her, but maybe he would be better alone…

_‘Cut it off. He’s the one who said you could come, and he knows you’re supposed to. And you promised you would cook, anyway. You can’t chicken out right now.’_

Taking a deep breath, Maggie rang the bell.

After a moment of silence, hurried footsteps echoed against the wooden floor, getting closer to the door until it was opened, revealing Arthur’s frame. The man was dressed in a pair of old jeans and a sweater that had seen better days, which didn’t help with the exhaustion clearly written in his pale features and the dark shadows under his eyes. Even his hair was messier than usual.

In spite of his haggard appearance, Arthur welcomed Maggie with a warm smile.

“Come inside, it’s cold. I was waiting for you.”

Maggie immediately obeyed, thanking Arthur as she slipped off her sneakers and left the coat and bags where the man pointed her.

“How’s Alfred?”

There was an undeniable tender glint in Arthur’s eyes.

“He has a slight fever and a bit of a headache, but it’s nothing serious. I think he’s still sleeping, you can go and check on him. I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

Maggie had realized some time earlier that there was no way to avoid that, so she thanked Arthur and headed towards Alfred’s bedroom, carefully tiptoeing over the floor to make as little noise as possible. The door had been left ajar, Maggie opened it soundlessly.

Like the other times the girl had seen Alfred’s bedroom, she couldn’t help but stop for a moment, a strange feeling of warmth blossoming in her chest. The room was big and well lit, but what had immediately gotten Maggie’s attention was how perfectly attuned to Alfred’s personality it was. Movie posters inundated the walls to the point that the light blue paint could be barely seen under them, they mixed with photos stuck in a board and all over the room with no apparent order, manga and anime drawings that Alfred had gotten from Kiku and sketches and small paintings made by Feliciano. A library at Maggie’s left was sided by a big desk that was always covered by different books, notebooks, manga, comics and pencils thrown everywhere, leaving only a small space for Alfred’s laptop.

The head of a queen-sized bed rested against the opposite wall, under an American flag. And at the centre on the bed, over a blue duvet and wrapped in a red fleece blanket, lay Alfred, seemingly asleep.

Maggie silently tiptoed over him.

The boy didn’t move or gave any other sign of having heard her. He was paler than usual, and his cheeks slightly flushed from the fever, but his breathing was deep and regular. Asleep like that, without his usual vitality, Alfred looked surprisingly vulnerable.

Cautiously, Maggie reached out and brushed his hair away from the boy’s forehead, feeling the smooth skin with the tips of her fingers. It was a bit warm, but not overly so. The fever wasn’t bad. Maggie exhaled at the realization, a bit of tension leaving her body. While Arthur had already told her that Alfred’s illness wasn’t serious, confirming it with her own two eyes was different.

Alfred sighed and turned his head, leaning against Maggie’s touch. The girl had a moment of hesitation before retreating her fingers, and when she did, Alfred moaned in complaint, but always without giving any sign of waking up.

Silently, Maggie moved away from the bed. She almost wanted to stay, but she was aware that she wasn’t going to be much help as long as Alfred kept sleeping, he needed his rest and she didn’t want to risk waking him up.

After a last glance to the uncharacteristically still form huddled up in the middle of the bed, Maggie closed the door behind her and headed to the kitchen, where she caught Arthur pouring the tea into two big mugs. Hearing her footsteps, the man raised his head, his lips curled into a faint smile.

“I guess Alfred is still asleep, or I would have heard something.”

Maggie nodded, automatically grabbing the mug that Arthur was holding out to her.

“Seeing him so still is… strange.” She murmured as she sat down, trying to give a name to the feeling that was unpleasantly gripping her stomach.

Strange wasn’t enough, it was plainly _wrong_. Completely unlike Alfred.

Arthur chuckled.

“Oh, don’t tell me. I know that it can be unsettling. But believe me when I say that it’s nothing serious, that boy is as healthy as a horse. This is the seventh time in his entire life he gets sick, and he doesn’t even know what an antibiotic is. By tomorrow he’s going to be his usual hyperactive self, and we’ll all look fondly to these moments of calm.”

The statement didn’t completely calm down Maggie. In spite of his words, the concern was encased in Arthur’s haggard features. On the other hand, the man clearly wasn’t used to seeing Alfred sick, so that could play a hand in his reaction…

_Seven times._

Maggie was sure that her mother had never kept count of all the time she had fallen ill, but even if she had, she would have reached and passed the mark within Maggie’s first two years of life.

“And how are you doing?”

Arthur was sipping his tea, but his eyes were locked on Maggie’s right shoulder, put slightly on display by the sweater that had slipped off. The girl’s hand instinctively ran to fix it as she grimaced internally. She should have expected Alfred to tell Arthur, she should stop deluding herself: if something happened to her while Alfred was present, Arthur was going to know.

“I’m fine. It’s nothing, really. I know that Al got scared, but I was wearing protections, it’s nothing more than a couple of bruises.”

Arthur hummed, cocking an eyebrow in scepticism.

“And is everything all right at home?”

Maggie’s blood ran cold. The question could be completely innocent, but she knew that there was more to it. In spite of her hopes, Francis had told Arthur about their first meeting, and Arthur had mentioned it offhandedly the first time he had seen the girl afterwards. The remark had been out of Alfred’s hearing, but Maggie had been forced to talk about it in front of the boy when he had come back, immediately after, to dismiss the importance of the episode. Alfred had been out of himself with worry, Maggie would never forgive herself for that, but she had to recognize that it was a clever way from Arthur to gauge whether she had something to hide or not. In spite of that, Arthur seemed even less convinced than Francis, and he kept asking questions.

“Yes, it’s all right. Nothing out of the ordinary.” The girl answered, calmly taking a sip of tea and trying to ignore the way her heart had started racing inside her chest.

Arthur looked about to say something else, but Maggie preceded him.

“And… I hope I’m not rude, but… I promised Alfred that I would cook…”

Her voice drifted off.

_Wow, this is embarrassing._

In her haste to change topic, Maggie hadn’t thought about how _rude_ asking Arthur to use his own kitchen was… Luckily, the man immediately caught on.

“Oh, of course,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Alfred told me so, yes. I wanted to cook some soup, but… erm…”

The man shrugged, a slight blush blossoming over his cheeks. It had to take a lot of self-control to admit how bad he was at cooking.

“Are you sure you want to do it?”

Maggie nodded with determination.

“Yes, of course. It’s not a problem, really, I like cooking, but… only if you don’t mind, I mean, I understand that…”

Arthur cut her off with a sharp wave of his hand.

“You’re doing me a _favour_ , don’t apologize. Make yourself at home. You know where the fridge is, and you see the cabinet on its left? That’s where I keep the spices. The pans are in the drawer next to the oven, you can use whatever you need.”

Maggie was about to melt into another wave of apologies and thanks, but at that moment, the phone rang, eliciting a small moan from Arthur.

“Well, I guess I’m supposed to answer.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m serious, make yourself at home. There’s no problem.”

With those words the man parted from the kitchen, leaving Maggie alone to look around, unsure of where to start.

Moving in a kitchen that wasn’t hers made her stomach coil with uneasiness, she almost felt like she was invading Arthur’s privacy, even if the man himself had assured that she was allowed to do as she pleased. On the other hand, she had promised Alfred some food, the least she could do was to make sure it tasted the best she could manage. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Maggie resolutely stood up and walked in front of the fridge.

The uneasiness faded quickly as she got to work. It was always there, pressing against a corner of her mind, but having to focus on the ingredients, on controlling the potency a stove she was not used to and tweak the cooking times accordingly left her too busy to acknowledge it.

Maggie realized she had started singing under her breath only when Arthur hemmed from the doorway. Abruptly brought back to reality, the girl gasped, turning towards the noise.

“That was nice,” Arthur commented with a half-smile. “Who taught you that? Francis or your mother?”

Another moment passed before Maggie realized that she had been singing in French, it had been a completely automatic reaction.

“My mother.” she murmured as she turned back to the pans to avoid Arthur’s gaze, her cheeks burning in embarrassment.

Arthur answered with a questioning hum, letting Maggie understand that she was supposed to elaborate.

“She had a beautiful voice, she used to sing a lot, especially when she was doing house chores. And she would sing mostly in French, she liked it more than English. She often talked to me in French, too.”

The girl mentally patted her own back for the answer. Arthur was weirdly interested in her childhood, as if hoping to hear something that might incriminate Steve. Not answering would only increase his suspicions, but the information Maggie had fed him was completely innocent.

An intake of breath signalled that Arthur was about to say something else, but the man was cut off by the ringing of the phone.

“Oh, bloody hell…” he mumbled, “Ah, sorry. I have an interview in a couple of days and I also have to meet with my editor, everybody’s stressing me out… I’d better answer, but this might take a bit. Go to Alfred once you’re done, I think he should wake up any time.”

Once again, Arthur strode off, leaving Maggie alone in the kitchen.

The soup was ready some minutes later, casting a pleasant smell, much to Maggie’s relief. She didn’t know if Alfred would like it, she had just realized that she had no idea of the boy’s tastes aside for junk food, but she consoled herself with the knowledge that her soup was at least going to be better than anything Arthur might have cooked in her place.

The girl put everything on a tray and started walking towards Alfred’s bedroom, careful not to spill anything. At the other end of the corridor, Arthur was talking on the phone. Maggie couldn’t make out his words, but he sounded annoyed… she hoped that there wasn’t anything too bad going on.

Using her elbow, the girl opened the bedroom’s door. The only sound that welcomed her was Alfred’s deep, regular breathing. The boy had only slightly moved from when Maggie had left him, twisting the blanket around his legs.

Maggie lowered the tray on the side table, and after a quick look around and a moment of hesitation she sat down on the only free spot she could see, the edge of Alfred’s bed, since both the desk chair and armchair were covered with haphazardly thrown articles of clothing. Alfred probably wouldn’t have minded her moving something, but Maggie didn’t want to take too much confidence.

Her eyes fell once again on Alfred’s face, looking for a reassurance on his well-being. Nothing had changed from earlier, but Maggie couldn’t take her eyes off. It was the first time she could see Alfred’s eyelashes so clearly, she noticed with a pang of surprise. Usually hidden behind the glasses being dark blond, she had never noticed how long they were, brushing against the boy’s cheekbones. And his semi-parted lips were so full…

Maggie diverted her eyes as her face heated up.

_What the hell is wrong with me?_

Alfred was her friend, and he was sick, on the top of everything. His lips were the _last_ thing she should be thinking about.

Biting back the impulse to wake up Alfred and put an end to the embarrassing situation, Maggie let her eyes wander around the room as she forced her breathing under control.

She always loved looking at the photos, each of them seemed to tell a piece of Alfred’s story. The most recent ones pictured him with his team-mates as they accepted the cup for the football tournament, around a grill with his friends, surfing with his Australian relatives, and then there were older pictures in which Alfred was younger, playing soccer with Lovino, Feliciano, Ludwig and Erika, the five children cooking under Laura’s supervision, Alfred, Lovino and Feliciano running after the ducks in front of the lake, Alfred and Lovino drawing…

Alfred had been an adorable child, with a bright smile stretching his chubby face and his huge, incredibly blue eyes sparkling as he looked at the camera.

Then there were older pictures, pictures that made Maggie’s chest grow heavy every time she looked at them. Amelia had been a stunning woman, the resemblance Alfred shared with her was striking. He had inherited her cornflower blue eyes, even if a bit more slanted, closer to Arthur’s shape, her arched eyebrows, straight nose and full lips, even his jawline was the same, and so was the glowing golden skin. The only big difference Maggie could see was Amelia’s hair, that ended in waves around her chin and looked slightly glossier and darker then Alfred’s. It wasn’t only a matter of physical appearance, however. There was something in the way Amelia smiled from the pictures that reminded Maggie of her son’s vitality and positivity, of the way his attitude made everything around him brighter. Even Arthur looked incredibly young in those pictures, with his features relaxed and a glint of adoration in his eyes as he stared at his wife and child.

But Amelia wasn’t there anymore. How did Alfred and Arthur deal with that? Alfred had admitted not remembering his mother well, but that didn’t mean not missing her. And what about Arthur? He looked so much happier in the pictures…

“Hey.”

Alfred’s voice jerked Maggie out of her thoughts with a start. The boy’s eyes were still half closed and hazy with a residual of sleep, but his lips curled into a smile when Maggie turned towards him.

“How are you doing?” the girl asked immediately, handing him his glasses.

The boy put them on as he sat up against the headboard, blinking.

“Better than this morning.” He declared after a bit, the drowsiness still evident in his voice.

Maggie offered him a relieved smile, but she couldn’t help the pang of worry that went through her stomach: he sounded too lethargic and quiet for Alfred.

“Fever?” she pressed on, whispering to avoid aggravating an eventual headache.

“It was… 100.04 before I went to bed,” Alfred answered, his forehead furrowing. “But I took some Tylenol so it should be down… and the headache is gone.”

The boy brought a hand to his forehead. The questioning stare he reserved to his fingers after withdrawing them brought a faint smile to Maggie’s lips.

“It doesn’t work this way.” She explained, recalling her mother’s words.

Without thinking, the girl bent over Alfred and smoothed back his hair before brushing his forehead with her lips.

“I don’t think it’s too warm…” she started murmuring, her forehead scrunching.

How was she actually supposed to tell? Her mother had always seemed so sure, but Maggie couldn’t say anything more precise than the fact that Alfred’s fever didn’t seem too bad…

And Alfred was gaping at her as an intense red that had little to do with his fever blossomed over his cheeks. Only at that moment, Maggie registered what she had truly done and jerked back, almost falling off the bed.

“Oh, I-I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to, j-just my hands, no, I mean, the soup, I…” she started stammering, her face burning and her brain too wrapped by the horror to come up with a complete sentence.

She didn’t even know _why_ she had done that, it had been so automatic…

“So, that’s the right way to check a fever, uh?” Alfred interrupted her, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips in spite of the way his eyes were still wide with surprise.

Maggie lowered her head, blushing even more.

“Eh, yeah.” She murmured, keeping her eyes accurately trained on the blanket. “I… I mean, my hands were too warm, I just cooked… but Mama always told me that lips are the only part of the body that always keeps the same temperature, so… yeah. Checking this way is safer.”

Her voice trailed off in an embarrassed silence.

“Wow.” Alfred exhaled after a bit.

Maggie finally dared to raise her head. Confusion was still etched in the boy’s features, but the smile stretching his lips was genuine.

“Wow, I didn’t know this! But hey, I trust you. You can do it anytime!”

Maggie’s face was in flames at that point.

“Uhm, I made some soup, are you hungry?” she asked quickly.

Alfred immediately lit up.

“Hey, thanks! I wasn’t hungry at lunch so I didn’t eat anything, but now I’d really like something… what did you put in it?”

Without waiting for an answer, the boy took the pot and started pouring its content in one of the bowls, the previous conversation seemingly forgotten. The tension finally washed off Maggie’s body. Alfred was anything but stupid, however, he could be quite predictable at times.

A moment later, the boy was wolfing down the soup.

“Don’t you risk getting sick?” Maggie asked cautiously as he rushed spoonful after spoonful into his mouth.

Alfred shrugged, but the reassurance he muttered was completely covered up by his slurping the soup. Maggie had never seen anybody out of grade school eat that messily, but oddly, Alfred’s enthusiasm looked more endearing than annoying.

The bowl was emptied in a matter of minutes. Alfred’s eyes rested on it for a moment before darting to the pot.

“No.” Maggie declared firmly.

The girl realized that she had gotten overboard when Alfred gaped at her, but in spite of the way the blood rushed to her cheeks and her stomach coiled unpleasantly, Maggie wasn’t going to cave in.

“I me-mean,” she stammered, clenching her fists against her knees. “I guess that you would like some more, but you really shouldn’t… You may think you’re fine, but since you were sick earlier you’d risk getting sick again if you ate too much.”

Moreover, it wasn’t only a matter of not bearing to see Alfred sick: Arthur had entrusted the boy in her care, and Maggie had no intention of betraying his trust.

“Maybe you can have some more in a bit, if you’re still feeling fine.” She added, seeing the way Alfred’s features were slowly rearranging into a convincing imitation of a kicked puppy.

Luckily, that was enough for Alfred, and the boy went back to smiling as he asked if something important had happened at school. The two of them spent the rest of time in a light, pleasant chatter. Alfred was less lively than his usual self and a bit drowsy, yet from the earnest way he smiled at Maggie and the brightness of his eyes he looked happy for her presence.

When Arthur finally came to check on them, Maggie was surprised to find out that two hours had already passed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to impose.” She apologized, jerking up from the bed. “Thank you so much for the hospitality, I…”

Arthur cut her off with a shake of his head.

“Stop with this nonsense, you’re always welcome here. _I_ should be the one thanking you for keeping Alfred company, if anything.”

“Geez Dad, you’re making it sound like I’m a toddler or something!” Alfred whined, pouting, but immediately after he straightened against the headboard, his eyes darting to Maggie. “But please, Maggie, stay a bit more! You cooked for us, you should stay for dinner at least.”

Maggie shifted on her feet as two pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly. Steve wouldn’t be a problem, she had only told him she would be late, not the time she was supposed to come home, and since she had been cooking and shopping for groceries regularly, there was plenty of food he could simply heat up for dinner. Alfred looked quite worn out, Maggie should probably let him rest, but his bright eyes were so hopeful…

“Well then, if it’s not a problem…”

Arthur’s kind smile and Alfred’s enthusiastic one couldn’t be misinterpreted.

Instead of going down to the living room, the three of them sat on Alfred’s bed, with the tray at the centre. It wasn’t a kind of dinner Maggie had ever experienced, while she would sometimes eat in her room, it wasn’t the indication of something positive. There, on the contrary, the atmosphere was relaxed and cheerful, Arthur was complaining about his editor and the interview he was preparing for, but his tone was mostly joking, and Alfred kept interrupting him to tell Maggie about the quirkiest people he had met when going along with his father for work.

Little by little, however, the boy started growing drowsier, and the faint blush on his cheeks more intense. He didn’t even ask for seconds, probably the biggest indicator of his illness.

Maggie automatically started gathering all the dishes as Alfred was sent to brush his teeth, but when the boy came back she couldn’t completely divert her attention from Arthur and Alfred. The man was talking to his son in a tender voice, barely above a whisper, as he helped him under the sheets and then tucked them under his chin. Alfred completely leaned into his hands, without holding back a yawn, his lips curled into a small smile and his blue eyes looking at his father in earnest, unlimited trust.

There was a tenderness in that scene that made Maggie’s chest ache, but at the same time she suddenly realized that what Alfred had told her many times was true: no matter how much Arthur and Alfred himself surely missed Amelia, they still had each other to rely on, and that made everything more bearable. That didn’t take anything out of Alfred’s remarkable strength in being so optimistic, but it did explain it a bit.

Maggie felt like an intruder, but she couldn’t help staring out of the corner of her eye as Arthur bent over his son and brushed his hair away from his forehead. Just like she had done earlier, he touched it with his lips (eliciting a half-hearted complaint), but unlike Maggie, Arthur seemed to know how to interpret it.

“You still have a bit of a fever, but it’s not high.” He declared as he straightened up. “If you don’t have a headache, I wouldn’t give you something for it… sometimes it’s better to just let an illness run its course.”

Alfred hummed in assent.

Pretending that she hadn’t seen anything, Maggie finally turned towards him, ready to say goodbye, only to find the boy staring at her with imploring eyes.

“Won’t you stay a bit more?” he asked.

Maggie bit her lower lip. She certainly wouldn’t have minded granting Alfred’s request, but she had already overstayed her welcome. When her eyes crossed Arthur’s ones, however, the man encouraged her with a smile.

“It’s not a problem if you stay some more time, as long as you won’t get in troubles with your step-father. Actually, I really need to make a phone call… I’ll be back in a bit.”

The man got out of the room without leaving Maggie enough time to reply. Hesitantly, the girl sat back at the edge of Alfred’s bed.

“I’m really sorry that you got sick.” She murmured. It should’ve been the first thing to come out of her lips, but she had ended up forgetting about it, too taken first by her concern and then by the conversation. “You shouldn’t have stayed yesterday, you should have gone away after you got your jacket wet… I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just… I wanted to score, but I didn’t think about what could happen. I won’t do it again, I promise, there’s no need to worry for me.”

For the first time since that afternoon, the weight of Ivan’s words sank fully. While Maggie herself didn’t care about getting hurt, other people did - and by being careless, she was causing troubles for them. The girl automatically clenched her fists, wishing she could hit herself.

“Aw, Maggie! Of course I worry. That’s what friends do. And uh, I guess I’m glad that this will make you be more careful, but it’s not your fault that I got sick. I was the one who decided to stay, it’s not like you came and tied me down to the bench… And in any case, the Hero won’t be stopped by a mere cold!”

The boy suddenly sneezed, and Maggie automatically turned to hand him the box of tissues that was on the side-table. His small smile only made her stomach churn more violently with guilt.

Trying to compose herself, Maggie turned away, her eyes once again automatically falling on the pictures on the wall.

“Hey, Maggie?” Alfred asked after a moment, still rubbing his nose. “Why don’t you ever talk about the friends you had before coming here?”

Taken out of surprise by the question, Maggie snapped back to Alfred, staring at him as she tried to understand how she was supposed to answer.

“It’s nothing bad, I’m just curious,” Alfred elaborated, “You say so little about yourself… and when you do it’s always about you and your mother, nobody else. But you’re always looking at the pictures and I just thought… I mean, moving so all of sudden must have been hard. You must miss your old friends a lot.”

Maggie took a deep breath, tensing. She should have been more careful, and now she had to answer.

“I… I didn’t really have friends.” She admitted, wringing her hands. “I mean, I _am_ shy, and before Mama married Steve we moved a couple of times, so I didn’t really have the time to connect with people, they were all already friends when I came, I never really bonded with many people… I had a lot of acquaintances, but not really _friends_ , you know?”

“Oh…”

Alfred’s eyes were wide with confusion.

_Of course that would worry him, moron! He’s not used to people not having friends!_

“Well, this sounds really bad, but it wasn’t,” Maggie immediately added, “I mean, it’s not like people bullied me or anything.” Not most of the time, at least. And never as systematically as Alyssa had started doing, anyway. “I did go out with people and stuff,” That was a lie instead, people simply didn’t think about Maggie to invite her, but she thought that she could afford that little white lie if it made Alfred feel better. “But I just… never really bonded with anybody aside for superficial chats. But it was my fault, you know? I was the one who didn’t push to make friends, I just… I’m just awkward, you must have noticed, right?”

Alfred shook his head, a small frown creasing his forehead.

“This is bullshit. You’re so nice! Yeah, you’re shy, but you bonded just fine with us, didn’t you? We just gave you an opportunity, and if other people didn’t do that they’re first class assholes, it’s not your fault!”

Maggie shrugged. While she didn’t know how to react to Alfred’s outburst, the boy’s eyes were too limpid to be anything but the truth, and the way her chest was constricting wasn’t completely pleasant.

Maggie couldn’t wrap her mind around it, there was no logical explanation, but for some reason, Alfred _liked_ spending time with her. Had she managed to build such a good fake personality for him?

“W-well, it’s not like I never had anybody,” she stammered, trying to salvage the situation. “I actually made a good friend in middle school… Carlos. He was a bit older than me, but he had been held back two years because he had just moved from Cuba and his English wasn’t very good…”

Maggie hadn’t been thinking about Carlos in quite a long time. She could still remember perfectly his rich, dark eyes, the dimples that would open on his chubby cheeks anytime he smiled… but those memories also brought a bitter taste to her mouth.

“His family had a dog shelter, and they would let me go there and help. It was fun. And Carlos was really nice… funny too. He was always relaxed about everything, he wanted to live each moment fully and always found a positive side to any situation. And he was completely obsessed with ice-cream and kept eating it all the time even if it would make him too cold later, since he wasn’t used to Canada’s climate. But he was so stubborn…”

“Sounds like you were good friends.” Commented Alfred. There was something oddly sober in his expression, he clearly wasn’t feeling well yet. Maggie had to be careful not to upset him.

“But you talked at the past,” the boy went on, “What happened?”

Maggie smiled weakly.

“Nothing, actually. When I was twelve, his family went back to Cuba, and we just… drifted away? I wasn’t allowed to have WhatsApp yet, so we would just write e-mails, and they got less and less frequent until we stopped completely. But that’s normal, we were just kids…”

Maggie knew that she should have waited for it, but she still couldn’t shake the disappointment blossoming across her stomach each time she would reload the page and find no new message. And since Carlos had stopped answering, she had stopped writing to him, not wanting to bother him. Sometimes, she wondered if that had been a mistake.

Trying to shake herself, the girl brought her attention back to Alfred, who looked like he was struggling with keeping his eyes open.

“Hey, I’d better go,” she murmured, “You look like you’re about to fall asleep. I’ll call your Dad and then I’ll go home.”

Alfred moaned in dissent, but his eyes were almost closed at that point.

Maggie chuckled.

“I mean it, you need to get some rest. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”

Instinctively, Maggie reached out to pat Alfred’s hair, and the boy immediately leaned into her touch.

“Okay…” he murmured with a yawn before his lids slid shut.

Guilt scratched at Maggie’s stomach as she realized how much the boy had forced himself to stay alert just to keep her company.

_But he looked so happy to see me…_

The girl finally got up from the bed and headed towards the door. She was about to close it when Alfred’s drowsy voice startled her.

“Anyway, that Carlos was an idiot to let you go this way. I would never do that.”

Maggie froze, but no other word passed Alfred's lips, and after a moment the boy started snoring lightly.

Silently, Maggie closed the door behind her.

She still had to go home, deal with Steve and her homework, but at that moment, not even that could stifle the warmth that had blossomed inside her chest or the smile curving her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100.04 °F = 37.8 °C
> 
> Carlos is Cuba
> 
> Alfred’s relationship with illnesses is based on a cousin of mine. By the time he was four, he had gotten ill a grand total of 3 times, and it only got rarer as he grew up. Now he’s 18, and he has yet to need an antibiotic. Alfred just strikes me as one of those people who won at the genetic lottery: those who need only a minimum amount of sleep, have an immune system that would make every pharmaceutical company bankrupt…
> 
> I’m sorry to say next chapter is going to be a bit late, surely no sooner than March (but it’s going to be extra long!). I have a lot going on right now, but I have absolutely no intention of giving up on this story, it might just take a bit.  
> Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! And if you did or if you have anything to say, please consider leaving a review, I’d love hearing your thoughts!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, I’m still alive. Sorry for the delay, as I mentioned last chapter, real life has been quite hectic lately. But thank you so much for those who bookmarked, left kudos and especially reviewed this story! Your kind words are a huge motivation, I could never thank you enough. Now, let’s move to the chapter.
> 
> No particular warnings this time except for the fact that it’s extra-long and, as usual, English still isn’t my first language.

** Chapter 10 **

Saying that Wednesday morning hadn’t started well would have been an understatement.

Maggie had barely had a wink of sleep. Having spent the previous afternoon with Alfred, she had ended up going to bed late and completely exhausted (for how much Alfred insisted that what they had reviewed was enough for the Physics test, Maggie wasn’t convinced, so she had indulged in some additional exercises once home), yet sleep had eluded her. She had kept tossing and turning on the bed as a growing soreness had gradually taken hold of her body, seeping from her muscles into her bones and preventing her from finding a comfortable position. In the last few hours, a vicious headache had blossomed behind her temples, making even falling into a light slumber short of impossible.

Finally surrendering to evidence that she wasn’t going to get any more rest, Maggie dragged herself to a sitting position with a tired sigh, wavering when a wave of dizziness washed over her.

_‘Low blood pressure sucks.’_

Gritting her teeth, the girl forced herself to ignore the bout of weakness and got out of the bed, leaving the blankets pooling behind her. She immediately mourned the warm shelter they had offered as the icy air hit her skin, making goosebumps rise all over her arms.

It hadn’t been so cold the previous day… had the temperatures suddenly dropped?

Sighing, Maggie wrapped a plaid around her shoulders and staggered to the bathroom, the light-headedness and general weakness stubbornly refusing to leave her. Even worse, a slight sense of nausea was starting to blossom at the pit of her stomach. Maybe the problem wasn’t external temperatures…

“I’m not sick.” Maggie declared out loud, frowning.

The wan face on the mirror stared back at the girl sceptically, the only glint of colour given by a faint blush over her cheekbones and a pair of too bright eyes.

_‘I’m not sick.’_

She couldn’t afford to, the Physics test was too important to miss.

Maggie was forced to reconsider a few moments later, when the floor seemed to tilt as she got out of the shower, forcing her to grab the sink for support.

There was no denying it, she _was_ sick. She should have expected it, too, it was the right season, and spending two entire afternoons with a sick person wasn’t going to help.

_‘What was I thinking?’_

A memory of the happy glint in Alfred’s eyes was enough to smother any flicker of regret. She would just have to deal with it, like many other times before.

After swallowing a tablet of Tylenol, Maggie staggered unsteadily back to her room, her eyes automatically falling on the lock screen of her phone on the side-table. 6:13. Still early. The blankets looked warm and inviting, and the mattress, that had felt hard as a rock before, promised to be fluffy as a cloud.

Maggie resolutely turned her eyes from it, walking towards the closet. If the Tylenol started working and she fell asleep, she would never be able to get up again. She instead started the unpleasant task of dressing up from the day, stopping herself just barely from putting on two pairs of leggings - no matter what her feverish mind was telling her, it wasn’t that cold. It was barely November, she would stop feeling chilled to the bone as soon as the fever went down along with the headache, hopefully.

Still tying the ribbon around her left twintail, Maggie tiptoed downstairs. The house was enveloped by silence, she would probably have time to cook both breakfast and lunch before Steve woke up. Her stomach, however, reacted at the mere thought with a painful twist that forced Maggie to stop walking, pressing a hand against her abdomen to quell the rising nausea. A tea would be enough.

The girl had just poured the hot water into a mug when shuffled steps behind her shoulders made her stiffen. They were too light to belong to Steve.

Maggie turned to see Claudia walking into the kitchen.

The young woman looked still half-asleep, her curly hair hung messily around her head and she was brushing her eyes with a wrist as she barely fought off a yawn. She was wearing a single clothing item, a flannel shirt belonging to Steve.

Maggie blushed as she diverted her eyes, her stomach tightening at the thought of what that attire implied.

“Good morning.” she murmured.

Claudia froze, blinking owlishly.

“Oh…” she whispered before shaking herself. “I’m sorry, I hadn’t seen you… good morning.”

With more care, the woman walked to the table and sunk down into a chair as Maggie pretended to be still occupied with the tea filter.

“I didn’t know that you were sleeping here.” Claudia stated after a moment of silence.

Maggie’s only answer was a neutral hum. Steve and Claudia must have gotten home the previous evening while she was showering or drying her hair because she hadn’t heard them, but she had definitely realized that they were home after that. She doubted that pointing it out would have been polite, however.

“Eh… do you want something for breakfast? Coffee, tea…? I can cook some pancakes, there’s some maple syrup left from Canada…” she said instead.

Claudia had been barely introduced to her, but since she apparently was Steve’s girlfriend Maggie should at least be civil with her.

“Oh… oh, why not, thanks! Coffee and pancakes would be perfect. That’s nice of you!” the woman answered after a moment, blinking in surprise.

Once again, Maggie simply hummed as she took out the ingredients for the pancakes mix. She had to give her back to Claudia to cook, but she could feel the woman’s eyes follow all her movements, making her stomach coil.

When Maggie finally turned with the food in her hands, Claudia was leaning her head on her hand, staring at the younger girl with an oddly pensive expression.

“Thank you,” was all she said as she accepted the mug and the plate, straightening up.

Maggie wanted nothing more than take her mug and run upstairs, but that would have been _rude_ , so she sat down in front of Claudia, trying to even out her breathing.

“Aren’t you eating?” the woman asked, her eyebrows raising.

Maggie shrugged.

“I’m not hungry,” she answered in a whisper, tightening her hold around the mug. The ill feeling in her stomach seemed to increase tenfold under Claudia’s blatant stare.

The woman’s lips thinned in disapproval, but instead of commenting she focused on her breakfast.

Maggie imitated her, lowering her eyes as she took a sip of tea. The warm liquid pleasantly slid down her throat, warming her up from the inside, but it did nothing to quell the churning of her stomach.

_‘I should say something.’_

Maggie’s silence was certainly unwelcoming, but her brain was stubbornly empty. She didn’t know anything about Claudia, not even her age (and she didn’t look a day over thirty, so much younger than Steve…) or profession, making the thought of small talk unbearably awkward.

The silence was unexpectedly broken by Claudia’s exclamation.

“Hey, these are good! Whoa. These pancakes are even better than my mother’s ones…”

The woman offered Maggie a surprised yet genuine smile, making her blush.

“It- it’s just pancakes,” the girl stammered, playing around her mug. “But thanks…”

Maggie bit her lower lip as she frantically looked for something to say, but the situation didn’t change, and the headache still faintly pulsating behind her temples wasn’t helping.

_‘This is so awkward…’_

The girl’s thoughts had started shifting to making up an excuse to get back to her room without sounding rude when a sigh from the other side of the table caught her attention.

Claudia lowered the cutlery on her empty plate, staring at Maggie in determination.

“Look,” she said, her voice surprisingly austere. “I know that this isn’t my business and it has nothing to do with me, but you’re just a kid, and Steve is worried for you.”

Maggie clenched her hands around the mug, staring at Claudia as confusion tightened her chest. That was coming out of nowhere.

The woman took a deep breath and ran her hand through her hair before talking again.

“God, this is awkward… but listen, I know what you’re thinking, okay? You’re what, sixteen? I get it, I’ve been that age too. I’m not blaming you, I know that you’re convinced you’re mature and sensible and aware of what you’re doing, but you aren’t, okay? For how adult you may feel, you’re still a kid. It’s so easy for a real adult to manipulate you, even if you think you’ve got everything under control… And I know that you cannot see the consequences, but they’re still here, okay? For you and for him, too. Things would get ugly real fast if somebody got to know it, you’re underage for God’s sake…”

“I’m sorry,” Maggie cut in as her heart-rate started increasing. “But I have no idea of what you’re talking about…”

The only thing she was sure of was that it wasn’t anything good…

Claudia took another deep breath and placed her hands flat on the table, looking at Maggie straight in the eyes.

“Why are you denying it? I know everything, stop playing dumb!”

Annoyance was seeping through the woman’s voice, making Maggie’s stomach flip, but she still couldn’t figure out what it was about. The headache wasn’t helping.

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what you’re trying to get at. What did I do wrong?”

Maggie had lost count of all the times she had lied to Steve in the past month, but he surely wasn’t aware of that, or he would have confronted her about it. And how would Claudia know, anyway? It had to be something else…

Claudia huffed, rolling her eyes.

“Okay, if this is what you want… no beating around the bush, then. I know that you’re banging your French neighbour.”

The words hit Maggie like a punch in the gut. The girl couldn’t find any reply, her brain struggling to grasp what Claudia had just implied. She must have heard wrong, a corner of her mind was whispering. How could anybody…

Misunderstanding her shock, Claudia kept talking.

“Were you truly thinking that nobody was going to notice? Come on, it’s plain obvious! Why would you spend so much time there otherwise? Believe me, I understand: that man in unbelievably hot. A bit too delicate for my tastes, I prefer manlier men, but I get that it must be fascinating for a girl your age. And I’ve been told that he’s really good in bed. But that’s not the point here. Now, I don’t know if you were the one who made the first move or if he likes grooming young girls, but…”

Hearing those accusations against Francis made Maggie’s blood boil, giving her back her voice.

“Francis would never do that!” she hissed, slamming the mug on the table with enough force to spill some tea. Claudia gasped, but Maggie didn’t care. Not after what she had said.

“How can you even… how do you dare to say this? You don’t even know Francis at all! For the record, he never touched me. And I don’t care how handsome he might be, he’s old enough to be my _father_! I’m not… I would never, ever think about him that way! I’m not going to have sex around, let alone with an adult man, it would even be statutory rape!”

Claudia was gaping at her, wide-eyed.

Maggie realized with an unpleasant pang in her stomach that she had gotten overboard, but she found out that she didn’t care. Hearing Francis’s incredible kindness repaid that way was making her feel sick.

“Oh…” Claudia muttered feebly, “So you didn’t…”

She looked confused enough to make Maggie start to regret yelling.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have raised my voice,” she said, taking a deep breath to calm her thundering heart. “But… how could you even think that? I mean…”

Her voice drifted off as Maggie found herself unable to express her disgust without getting angry a second time. The mere thought of what Claudia had believed was making her skin crawl.

“Well, sixteen is the age of consent in Canada,” the woman answered, shrugging, “So I thought it wouldn’t be so strange for you… but why are you always at his place, then?”

Maggie took a deep breath, trying to quell the anger clawing at her stomach.

“First of all, I’m _four_ teen,” she stated dryly, “But that’s beside the point. I _clean_ for Francis. And he gives me money, so Steve doesn’t have to pay for everything. And he’s the only opportunity I have to speak French.”

“But you s _leep_ at his house!” Claudia pointed out, her eyes still wide. Still unconvinced.

A ball of rage blossomed inside Maggie’s chest, not helped by the headache. The girl could almost feel her last tendrils of patience snapping. At the same time, the last rational part of her mind reminded her that she couldn’t be rude with Steve’s girlfriend, and for how insulting her words were, she might have reasons for her belief.

“Well, I thought that _somebody_ might appreciate having the house free.” Maggie snapped, jerking up from the chair. “And I have to go now, I don’t want to be late for school. Have a good day.”

Without sparing another glance at Claudia, Maggie strode out of the kitchen, ignoring both a wave of dizziness at the too sudden movement and Claudia’s voice calling her back.

Her head was pounding and her stomach churning, Maggie wanted nothing but crawl back under the blankets and black out. Seeing how the day had started, she certainly didn’t feel staying to see how it went on - but she couldn’t give up like that. She couldn’t start crying over herself only because she had been told something offensive, she was probably just feeling too irritable because she was sick and the way Alyssa kept mocking her at school for the same reason was making her oversensitive to the subject.

Maggie was aware that she had gone overboard with Claudia, but in spite of everything, she couldn’t bring herself to completely forgive the woman. This wasn’t only about her - Francis was involved as well. She couldn’t tolerate people spreading lies about Francis.

The girl tried to take some time to calm down her racing heart as she checked her Physics notes before gathering everything and silently getting out of the house, without stopping to say goodbye to Claudia who had moved to the living room.

Going away earlier than usual turned out to be a small blessing: in spite of the Tylenol, Maggie was still feeling light-headed and her legs were weak and unsteady, forcing her to slow down her pace. It was more than thirty minutes before she finally reached the school, dizzy and chilled to the bones in spite of the physical exertion. The girl needed to use all her willpower to part from the coat, but for how cold she was, she didn’t want anybody else to worry.

The day had just started, and she was already looking forward to when it would be over.

A pair of strong arms snaked around Maggie’s waist from behind, startling her, but the laughter that reached her ears was familiar.

“And the Hero is finally back!” Alfred declared, tightening his hold before letting the girl free.

Maggie turned to him, the tightness around her chest finally loosening. Alfred had been well on his way to recovery the previous day, and he looked completely back to his lively self.

“Feeling patriotic, are we?” the boy commented lightly, pointing at the red maple leaf printed on the front of Maggie’s white hoodie.

The girl shrugged - she was wearing that hoodie only because it was one of the warmest she owned - but Alfred looked so thrilled at being finally out of home that he didn’t seem to notice it and started dragging her through the corridor, unable to control the bounce in his steps.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Maggie said softly. The day has suddenly taken a turn for the better.

“Hey, a mere cold won’t keep the Hero down for long!” Alfred remarked, ignoring how he had been complaining to be on his deathbed just a couple of days before.

The thought brought a smile to Maggie’s lips. If anything, somebody was in a good mood.

Alfred was probably the only one, when the two were reached by Natalya and Tolys - Feliks was on the mend but his mother had decided to keep him home - both seemed unnerved by the imminent test. Even Natalya was grumpier than usual. For how much Alfred kept insisting that the test was going to be a walk in the breeze and she shouldn’t worry, Maggie was feeling more and more satisfied for her choice of reviewing a bit more.

To make matters worse, her headache was coming back with vengeance, accompanied by pangs of nausea and the intense cold that refused to leave her. Maggie considered herself lucky to manage to finish the test, even if she didn’t keep looking over possible mistakes until the last moment - the numbers seemed to swirl in front of her eyes, she was just afraid of making a further mess. Her unusual action earned a quizzical glance from Alfred, who had finished the test before everybody else, but the boy didn’t have the time to insist on it as Tolys dragged him away for their following period, that was in another wing of the school.

It was better that way. The concern clouding Alfred’s impossibly blue eyes clenched Maggie’s chest, but hopefully, by lunchtime she would have managed to get her act together. She had to - she even had hockey in the afternoon, and that was shaping up to be a problem, seeing how even the walk to the English class left her lightheaded and almost out of breath.

Half into the English period, Maggie had to surrender to the evidence that her health wasn’t magically going to take a turn for the better. The nausea at the pit of her stomach was starting to develop in unpleasant cramps, and the headache and shivers were unrelenting.

Mr Bronsons’s voice, usually so lively, sounded completely flat, as if he were reading from a vocabulary instead of a literature manual. Maggie was finding it quite hard to focus on his words.

With a moan, the girl let her head fall on the desk, pressing a hand against her complaining stomach as she kept stubbornly taking notes with the other.

Natalya turned towards her, a slight frown marring her forehead.

“Are you all right?”

The girl’s sceptical frown didn’t ease after Maggie’s weak nod.

“Of course you are. That’s why you’re lying on your desk and clutching your stomach.” After that sharp remark, however, Natalya’s expression softened. “Period?”

Maggie shook her head, shuddering. _Thank God_ it wasn’t her period. She had been lucky enough to miss it the previous month, but that would’ve been even more painful and harder to hide.

“Just a headache. It’s making me nauseous,” she admitted.

Natalya frowned again.

“Do you want something? I have some Advil, but I don’t know if it would actually help with your stomach…”

The girl was already bent over her bag, but Maggie stopped her.

“Thanks, but I’m fine. I took some Tylenol, six hours aren’t over yet… and I think I’m just tired, anyway. I haven’t been sleeping so well lately…”

The excuse didn’t seem to convince Natalya, who kept staring at Maggie with an odd expression that almost looked vaguely concerned.

“Sleep, then,” the girl said in the end.

Maggie jerked up.

“What?”

Natalya huffed.

“You look like you’re about to pass out. Seriously, do you think that forcing yourself to pay attention is going to make you feel any better? It’s not like anybody will notice if you take a nap… I could wake you up, anyway. And if it’s the notes you’re worrying about, I can lend you mine.”

The offer was tempting, and Natalya’s kindness was even more touching - but quite embarrassing, as well. Natalya already considered Maggie pathetic, she wasn’t going to add fuel to the fire.

“Thank you, really. That’s very nice of you… but you don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

Out of sheer willpower, Maggie managed to get to lunchtime awake and with all the notes, even if half of them were most likely illegible - she made a mental note to check once she got home.

The bell’s ringing pierced her temples like a screwdriver, yet it was heavenly music to Maggie’s ears. For forty minutes, she wouldn’t have to worry about paying attention to classes or anything else.

The floor wavered as Maggie stood up, and Natalya promptly grabbed her arm.

“You’re not fine. You should go home,” the girl declared sharply.

Before any of them could say something else, Alfred and Tolys called them from the doorway. Maggie took it as a chance to free herself from Natalya’s grip. Her legs felt like jelly and her head was spinning, but she wasn’t going to faint or worry somebody else.

For once, however, Alfred’s automatic gesture of taking her bag was more welcome than embarrassing.

“Are you all right? You don’t look so good,” the boy asked, his eyebrows raising.

“I’m fine, just a bit tired. I just didn’t get much sleep last night, you know, I was worried for the test…” Maggie answered for the umpteenth time, forcing herself to keep her body rigid to avoid trembling.

In spite of not looking convinced, nobody commented as they headed towards their lunch room, with Alfred complaining because his father had forbidden him to participate to the gym class but hadn’t agreed to take him home earlier. Maggie was listening to him only in part, too preoccupied with trying to find a believable excuse for why she wouldn’t eat - there was no way she could manage to keep down anything, her stomach was churning with nausea.

She hadn’t found a solution by the time they reached the lunchroom and she finally slid down to the floor, her head spinning.

“Whoa Maggie, you’re shivering.”

At Alfred’s words, the girl forced herself still, but it didn’t help with the chilling sensation that had enveloped her.

“It’s so cold here…”

Alfred frowned. Behind the glasses, his usually bright eyes were clouded by a glint of concern.

“Yeah, it’s cold, the radiator his broken,” he said, sliding down next to Maggie. “But you were never bothered by the cold before…”

“Are you sure you’re all right?” asked Tolys, crouching down next to her.

“I’m just cold…” muttered Maggie, the voice sounding faint even to her own ears.

Alfred took a deep breath, but a small shake of Tolys’s head stopped him before he could talk. Sighing, Alfred wrapped his arm around Maggie’s shoulders, holding the girl against his side.

Maggie stiffened, but immediately after her brain registered the pleasant _warmth_ that seeped from the boy’s body. Like a starving child, she found herself pressing against him, resting her head on Alfred’s shoulder. A remote part of Maggie’s brain made her stomach twist, reminding her that she was taking too many liberties, but the rest of the girl was too sore and chilled to care. Closing her eyes, she let herself sink for a moment in the pleasant sensation.

Maggie vaguely heard the door being opened, followed by Feliciano’s voice, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying, her mind was drifting away…

The girl didn’t even realize when she finally surrendered to sleep. The next thing she was aware of was a soft, cool hand brushing her forehead before sliding down to her neck.

Maggie gasped, instinctively trying to jerk back as her eyelids snapped open. Something tightened around her, preventing her from getting up.

Another moment passed before Maggie’s panicked brain realized that the culprit was Alfred’s arm. She was still curled against the boy’s side, who was looking at her, frowning, while Kiku was crouched in front of her, his right hand hovering over her face.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t my intention to scare you,” the boy stated softly, tilting his head.

Maggie nodded automatically. Her brain felt filled with wool, she still couldn’t understand what was going on.

“How are you feeling?” asked Alfred, concern seeping through his voice.

It was at that moment that Maggie realized that the answer wasn’t a positive one. She was feeling weak and sore to the bones, her limbs were like jelly. A vicious headache throbbing behind her temples and a slight sense of nausea completed the grim picture, but…

Suddenly, the girl realized that there weren’t only Alfred and Kiku in the room. Everybody seemed to be present, all the eyes were fixed on her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” she squealed, trying to wriggle out of Alfred’s hold, but the boy only tightened it in response. “I…  I fell asleep, didn’t I? I didn’t mean to, I… I’m really, really sorry, I…”

Nobody seemed annoyed, however, Maggie could only see concern in the faces staring down at her.

“You’re ill, you have a fever,” declared Kiku.

Maggie sighed, unwillingly relaxing as she realized that there was no point in denying the evidence.

“Yes, it’s true. I did have a bit of a fever this morning. But it’s nothing bad, I think it’s just…”

Alfred huffed. Without any warning, he slid an arm under Maggie’s knees and tightened his hold around her back before standing up, with the girl in his arms.

“Alfred!”

Maggie’s surprised brain failed to connect with her limbs. She _wanted_ to get out of Alfred’s hold, but could only gape at him.

“You’re sick, you need to go to the infirmary,” Alfred declared firmly, “And that’s where I’m taking you.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. The infirmary is fine, I wouldn’t need to but I’ll go. Fine. But I can walk on my own! Al!”

 “Nope!” the boy remarked cheerfully, “You could barely stay on your feet earlier, you shouldn’t walk. But don’t worry, the Hero will take care of it!”

“Al, please…”

In spite of her protests, Maggie was aware that she was fighting a losing battle, Alfred was too stubborn for her. As she was expecting, the boy ignored her feeble words and strode out of the room, with the other following in an odd procession.

Ludwig was holding her bag - Maggie sent him an imploring glance behind Alfred’s shoulder, but the boy didn’t seem intentioned to intervene. And neither did anybody else.

Maggie found herself paralyzed. _Why_ did Alfred have to be like that? She knew that he only wanted to help, but he didn’t seem to be realizing the situation he was landing Maggie in. Lunchtime was almost over, people were roaming over the corridors, and Alfred with a girl in his arms made every head turn. Even worse, making a scene to force Alfred to put her down would only bring more attention to them. There was nothing Maggie could do.

The dread coiling the girl’s stomach only increased when she caught a glimpse of Alyssa’s face, turning from shocked to furious as she witnessed the scene. Maggie whimpered, hiding her face against Alfred’s neck.

_Why always me?_

“Wow, you’re really burning up,” the boy noted, tightening his old. “But don’t worry, we’re almost there.”

Maggie didn’t answer. She _knew_ that Alfred meant well and that it was a proof of his caring for her, so she should be grateful, but her brain couldn’t get over how mortifying the entire situation was. The girl closed her eyes and tried to focus on the calming rhythm of Alfred’s footsteps.

“Here we are,” Alfred announced along with the startled exclamation of a voice Maggie didn’t recognize.

The girl raised her eyes to see a stocky middle-aged woman walking towards them, her wrinkly face set in determination.

“What happened?” The school nurse asked with a raspy but not unkind voice.

“She has a headache, a fever and she fell asleep during lunch. She was also shivering a lot, even if it wasn’t too cold,” Alfred reported before Maggie could even think about saying something.

The woman gave a click of her tongue.

“Of course. The flu or a bad cold, there’s everything around now that it’s getting colder. I’ve already had to send home five people today. Follow me.”

The woman led them towards a row of beds at the other extremity of the room, where Alfred finally let go of Maggie, lowering her down on the mattress. Without wasting a moment, the nurse offered her a thermometer that Maggie obediently set in her mouth, not keen on bothering a person who clearly had a lot in her hands.

“It was nice of you to come with her, but that’s hardly an excuse to miss your classes. Go back before the break is over,” the nurse commanded in a stern voice that left no space for objections.

Everybody started leaving after offering goodbyes, with Ludwig as the last after setting Maggie’s bag at the feet of the bed.

The girl was scarlet in embarrassment, but the twist in her chest as her eyes lingered on the retreating backs wasn’t completely unpleasant. She simply couldn’t wrap her mind around the notion that so many people were interested in her well-being.

“When I said ‘e _verybody’_ , that meant you as well!”

Only at the nurse’s reproach, Maggie realized with a startled gasp that Alfred, instead of leaving, was sitting on a chair next to the bed.

“Yeah, but I would have PE right now and I have a justification,” the boy answered quickly, looking at the nurse with his best puppy eyes. “I was sick yesterday so Dad thought it would be better if I skipped it. I mean, I guess I could go to the library and study a bit, but… can I stay, please?”

The concern in his voice was so genuine the nurse’s features softened.

“Oh well, if the young lady here doesn’t mind…” she sighed, approaching Maggie as the thermometer beeped.

The woman took the device, frowning when her eyes focused on it.

“102.28…”

Alfred gasped as Maggie looked down at her lap, wringing her hands.

“That’s pretty high. Do you want to call home, sweetheart?”

Maggie shook her head, her stomach twisting at the mere thought.

“My step-dad is at work… Can’t I stay here until it’s time to go home?”

Alfred took a deep breath, but the nurse preceded him.

“That’s fine with me - as long as somebody picks up afterwards. I’m not letting you go home alone with such a fever, have I been clear?”

Maggie bit her lower lip, finally raising her head to face the nurse. What excuse could she find? She couldn’t call Steve just to have him pick her up from school…

“Dad is picking me up, we can drive her home,” Alfred intervened.

“Oh, no!” Maggie answered automatically, turning to the boy. “You don’t have to, I mean…”

For how much her chest felt tight at the thought of bothering Arthur again, however, it would have been a perfect arrangement, and the determined glint in Alfred’s eyes clearly told that moving him wouldn’t be easy.

“No, I don’t have to,” he said, “But guess what? I _want_ to. You’re sick, and you need a lift. Dad is coming to pick me up, so driving you home as well won’t be a problem. Easy, right?”

Maggie nodded, unable to counter his words. Her head was spinning, shivers running down her spine.

“Well… thank you, then. Really, thanks a lot.”

“This is settled, then.” declared the nurse, “Lie down, I’ll get you a blanket.”

Her voice filled the room as she walked away.

“Do you need something else? Do you have a headache, nausea? I can’t give you any medicine, it’s school policy, but I can give you a cold compress. That would probably be for the best, with that fever…”

Forgetting that the woman couldn’t see her, Maggie shook her head as she lay down. Both the headache and the nausea that was still bothering her stomach seemed minor in front of the thought of a warm blanket and a nap. There was nothing else she could ask for.

Alfred helped her untie her boots, his forehead creased with concern.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing.” Maggie mumbled as she curled on her side, shivering.

A moment later, two blankets were spread over her trembling frame.

Alfred was talking to the nurse, reporting both Maggie’s answers to her questions and his own scepticism, but Maggie could barely make out his word. A hand laid a cool cloth on her forehead - unpleasant, but at the same time Maggie’s throbbing temples seemed to beg for it, so she didn’t complain and let herself be lulled to sleep by the whispered conversation in the background.

Sometime later, Maggie came back to her senses as a hand shook her shoulder. Her sleep-filled eyes needed some moments before focusing on Alfred’s shape, bent over her.

“Oh, you’re awake,” the boys said as he straightened up, his voice laced with relief. “How are you feeling?”

Maggie slowly dragged herself to a sitting position, never relinquishing her hold on the blankets. She blinked a couple of times, trying to assess the situation.

“Better,” she answered in the end, offering Alfred a weak smile.

Only a ghost of the previous headache was still lingering behind her forehead, and the nausea wasn’t as bad as before. When the girl finally let the blankets pool around her, the cold air made her shiver, but it was bearable.

Alfred smiled back, his features relaxing.

“It’s time to go, Dad is waiting outside.”

Only at that moment, Maggie realized that the boy was wearing his coat, and his backpack was slung over his shoulder. A further inspection revealed Maggie’s school bag, gym bag and coat at the feet of her bed.

Her heart leapt into her throat as she realized what that meant - but Alfred looked completely calm.

“I had to ask for the combination of your locker, but I had a note from the nurse so they gave it to me,” he explained, his shoulders squared with pride. “I even went to your French teacher to get your homework! I mean, you should be resting instead of worrying about it, but you being you…”

The tension washed off Maggie’s body, leaving the girl light-headed with relief. Alyssa must have been smart enough to realize that somebody else might open her locker, so she hadn’t slipped in any new note, and Maggie hid the old ones every day to be sure that nobody would see them. Alfred hadn’t noticed anything.

“Thank you,” she whispered earnestly, smiling as she put on her shoes.

“You sure you can walk?” Alfred asked anxiously, but carrying both his backpack and the bag with Maggie’s hockey gear he had no room left for the girl, so he was forced to believe her when she nodded.

Maggie wasn’t even lying - while her limbs felt light jelly and the light-headedness gave muffled edges to her surroundings, walking for a bit was hardly an issue.

Arthur was waiting for them out of the car, almost in front of the school’s gate, his brow knitted in concern. His grim expression softened when he spotted Maggie walking on her own.

“I guess that I should have expected it,” he sighed as they got into the car, “As they say, ‘what goes around comes around.’ Forgive me, I shouldn’t have let you spend so much time with Alfred when he was sick.”

“Oh, I don’t even think it’s the same virus,” Maggie answered immediately, seeing the way Alfred’s features tightened slightly at his father’s words. “And I…”

“Don’t you dare apologize for this.” Arthur interrupted her sharply, tightening his hold around the wheel. “Maggie, driving you home doesn’t cause me any kind of annoyance. I was already driving, it’s just a couple of minutes. First of all, you are a friend of Alfred’s, so I’m glad to help anytime you need anything. Besides, you have cooked for us, kept him company and collected his homework for the last two days. Do you really think that, after this, giving you a lift home would be a problem?”

Arthur’s words sounded absolutely logic. Maggie _knew_ that she didn’t deserve his kindness, but her tired brain could find no words to refute his argument, so she kept quiet for the rest of the way, only answering when Arthur asked her some questions.

“Are you s _ure_ you’re going to be all right?” the man asked again as Maggie got off the car, refusing his help to carry the hockey bag.

Arthur’s eyes lingered over the dark window of Maggie’s living room.

Maggie smiled at him, understanding his concern.

“Yes. I’m not feeling too bad, and Steve will be back in a bit. He’s going to be home if I need anything.”

There was nothing true in that sentence. Steve would be home late, but it didn’t matter, he wouldn’t be of any help anyway. Maggie was used to it: for how unpleasant the illness might be, she would take care of herself.

* * *

 

Alfred wasn’t worried. It would’ve been more correct to say that he was beside himself with concern. That morning, Maggie hadn’t shown up at school, and Alfred didn’t believe that she was _‘mostly fine, with just slight fever’_ as she had claimed. Her fever had been too high the previous day for her to miraculously feel better, and the boy knew for certain that Maggie was going to dismiss her illness to prevent everybody else from worrying. Even worse, she had nobody who could take care of her, since her step-father was at work.

That was the reason Alfred hadn’t wasted a single moment after getting out of school and was now standing in front of the girl’s house.

Some unbearably long moments after he had rung the bell, light steps reached the door, that was finally opened. Maggie gaped at Alfred, her eyes wide with surprise.

The girl was probably in her pyjamas, a white long-sleeved t-shirt with a red maple leaf on the front that reached her mid-thigh and a pair of red leggings decorated with a pattern of small white maple leaves. Her hair was loose, caressing her back in shiny waves. The simple, extraordinary beauty of that vision made Alfred’s heart skip a beat - but at the same time, the girl’s usually red lips were bloodless on her pasty face, the blush on her cheekbones was too intense and her pale lilac eyes unnaturally bright.

“Alfred?” Maggie asked feebly.

The boy realized that she was leaning against the door, and slight tremors shook her body.

“Jesus, you look awful!” Alfred blurted out.

Maggie lowered her head.

“I’m sorry…” she said in a faint whisper that made Alfred’s stomach twist.

Why had he said that? He _knew_ that he had to be careful with Maggie…

“Ugh, sorry. I worded that badly. I mean, not ‘awful’ as in… ‘ugly’. I meant that… I mean, you look like you’re _feeling_ awful. Like you’re really sick.”

Maggie’s lips curled into a faint smile at that.

“Well, I _am_ sick. But… why are you here?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? You’re home alone, aren’t you? And you’re sick. But have no fear, the Hero is going to take care of you!”

At least, that was Alfred’s intent, but Maggie didn’t look as relieved as he was hoping. The girl gaped at him, confusion still shining in her eyes.

“Al…” she muttered, “That’s… I mean, that’s so nice of you, I don’t know how to thank you but really, there’s no need…”

Her words were contradicted when her body wavered.

“You should be lying down,” Alfred declared, stepping inside.

Maggie looked about to protest, but the boy didn’t leave her enough time to do it. With a single, smooth movement, he dropped his backpack and took off his coat to wrap it around the girl’s frame before lifting her in his arms. Maggie squealed in surprise, automatically clinging to his neck.

“Alfred! I can walk!”

Alfred knew that she was going to react that way, but he didn’t care. Maggie _could_ walk to her bedroom, that much was true, but she was clearly feeling awful and he didn’t mind carrying her for a bit, she wasn’t too heavy.

The boy was halfway through the hallway before he realized that he didn’t know where he should go. It was the first time he went inside Maggie’s house, but he swallowed down the pang of curiosity: it wasn’t the right time to explore it.

“Where’s your bedroom?”

“Upstairs, on the right.”

Maggie’s voice was laced with resignation, and the girl had laid her head on Alfred’s shoulder instead of trying to squirm out of his hold. For how much the boy wanted to be happy that she was accepting his help, the most rational part of his brain told him that it was quite worrisome.

Following the girl’s instructions, Alfred walked past the living room _(were those beer bottles toppled on the floor next to the sofa?)_ and upstairs to Maggie’s bedroom.

He didn’t have the time for more than a glimpse, but the room was small and tidy, almost bare. The only thing that wasn’t perfectly ordered was the unmade blankets on the bed were Alfred deposited Maggie, next to an adorable polar bear plushie that brought a smile to his lips.  He took care of tucking Maggie in before she could sit up - he knew that she was going to do that.

“Al, I’m serious,” the girl immediately protested, “You’re… you’re incredibly kind and I could never, ever thank you enough for this, but there’s no need for you to be here. Really, you don’t have to…”

Alfred beamed at her.

“No, I don’t have to. But see, I’m here because I want to. Do you get it? Don’t worry about anything, ‘kay? I’ll take care of you!”

Maggie didn’t look completely convinced, she was staring at him with worried eyes, but Alfred considered the discussion over. Maggie clearly needed help, she was going to understand that he meant every word he had said - hopefully, sooner than later. She could understand his reasoning, after all, she had spent the previous two days taking care of Alfred, he was merely going to return the favour.

Now, all he needed to figure out was _how_. He wasn’t exactly familiar with being sick, he had never noticed too much what Dad did when he was…

_Oh, right. The fever._

First of all, he needed to check Maggie’s fever - that looked quite high, judging from the heavy blush on her cheeks. Alfred laid a hand against the girl’s forehead, brushing back her bangs. He gasped at the heat that prickled his skin.

“You’re burning up!”

Maggie offered him a weak smile.

“You were outside until a moment ago, your hands are cold… it’s not so bad, really.”

Alfred sunk his teeth into his lower lip. Maggie’s words made sense, and he remembered the girl checking with her lips the previous day for the same reason - the thought made something strange stir in his stomach. He wasn’t sure that he would be able to actually tell something by simply reciprocating the gesture, however. How much hot was _too hot_?

His eyes fell on a thermometer on the side-table.

“Problem solved!” the boy declared with a triumphant grin. “Open up!”

“Al, really, I don’t…”

Alfred, however, wasn’t going to cave in, and he took advantage of the moment to stick the device in Maggie’s mouth. In spite of the dirty glare the girl sent him, she didn’t protest anymore.

Not wanting to keep silent, Alfred started telling her about the day until the thermometer beeped. He quickly took it before Maggie could, his eyes darting to the screen.

“39.6,” he read, his brow furrowing in confusion. “Is it broken?”

A tired chuckle seeped through Maggie’s lips.

“No, it’s just in Celsius. And it’s not too bad, really, you don’t have to worry.”

“If you say so…”

Maggie’s waxen face and her visible weakness weren’t a positive indication, but Alfred had no way to check if she was telling the truth without taking back his phone from downstairs.

“Do you want to take something? For the fever, I mean,” he asked, unsure of how to proceed.

Maggie shook her head.

“I took some Tylenol three hours ago, it’s still too early for another dose…”

Alfred remembered something like that. What could he do to make her feel better, then? A cold compress, maybe? He longed to check what that fever meant in Fahrenheit, the strong suspicion that Maggie had lied to him was making his stomach twist unpleasantly…

The backpack, however, suddenly reminded him of something else.

“Hey, did you eat anything?”

Maggie certainly didn’t look well enough to cook, and her step-father… anger surged in Alfred’s chest at the thought. How could he leave his child alone when she was so plainly sick? Alfred knew that not everybody was lucky enough to have a parent who worked from home, but his dad had always rearranged any eventual appointment stay with him when he had been sick…

Maggie shook her head.

“No, but…”

The anger immediately turned into concern.

“No wonder you’re so weak, then! But don’t worry, I’ve got everything under control!”

Actually, Feliciano had been the one who had cooked the broth closed in a box inside Alfred’s backpack - but Alfred had asked him to, so he could at least share the merits.

Maggie’s eyes widened in alarm.

“No, Al, I’m serious, I didn’t eat because…”

Alfred didn’t let her go on. He knew how Maggie was, so unwillingly to accept any favour, but she was too sick, he couldn’t let her win.

“Don’t move, I’ll be right back!”

Alfred ran out of the room and downstairs, taking the box out of his backpack before throwing it over his shoulder. Only at that moment, he realized the hole in his plan: the broth needed heating… but he didn’t want to give Maggie another opportunity to protest by asking her where the kitchen was. Looking around, the boy spotted a closed door after a short corridor at his right. Could that be the kitchen?

A quick exploration confirmed his deduction. The room was airy and bright, but plainly in need of a cleaning: crumbles decorated the floor and the wooden table, and a pile of dirty dishes occupied the sink. There were three empty cans of beer on the counter, too.

Alfred found himself frowning, unable to tear his eyes from the sight. Maggie was too sick to clean, but it looked like her step-father did nothing at all… which wasn’t his main concern, at the moment.

Shaking himself, Alfred spotted the microwave and hurried to heat up the broth. Feliciano had had the foresight to give him a spoon as well, so he didn’t need to waste other time looking for one.

Two minutes later, Alfred was walking back to Maggie’s bedroom.

“And the Hero is back, with the supper in tow!” he announced cheekily as he got in, dropping the backpack on the floor.

Maggie stared at him, faint wrinkles of concern creasing her forehead.

“Al, that’s really nice of you, but…”

“Stop worrying! No, it’s no troubles. I swear. Pinky promise. Whatever sails your boat. Seriously, it wasn’t a bother, and I already have the food anyway. Just eat it! You need to regain your strength.”

Deaf to her weak protests, Alfred helped Maggie sit against the headboard, fluffing a pillow behind her back for added comfort. Before the girl could complain again, he handed her the bowl.

Maggie didn’t take it.

“Al, I’m serious, really, I don’t…” She muttered, wringing her hands.

“What’s up, don’t you like it?” Alfred found himself asking, his enthusiasm simmering down.

Did he do something wrong? The chicken broth was casting an inviting smell, and he knew that Maggie liked that healthy stuff…

“But… Feli cooked it when I said you were sick… and yeah, he’s not Lovino but he’s still an amazing cook, I mean, you’ve always liked Feli’s cooking…”

Maggie’s eyes widened as her hands tightened their hold on the blanket.

“Oh… N-no, it’s nothing like that, really, it’s just that I’m not hungry…”

That was clearly a lie: Maggie had just admitted that she hadn’t eaten. It was her usual reluctance to accept favours, then.

“At least try it.” Alfred encouraged her with a smile, “Feli made it just for you…”

Maggie bit her lower lip, but she finally accepted the box from Alfred’s hands. Her features softened at the bright smile the boy offered her.

“Okay… I guess I should try a bit then.”

In spite of not sounding convinced, Maggie returned Alfred’s smile with a weaker one.

The boy kept staring at her as she took a spoonful of broth and brought it to her lips.

“So?” he asked, unable to hide his excitement.

“It’s really good,” Maggie answered, but there was something strained in her smile. “Truly, it is. And it was such a kind thought, but Al, I don’t think I should…”

“You still don’t want to eat,” the boy noted, running a hand through his hair. “Listen, you can tell me if you don’t like it. It’s okay, I’ll find something else - but you _need_ to eat! You need food to recover!”

Maggie quickly shook her head.

“No, it _is_ good! I just…” after a long sigh, the girl lowered her head and took another spoonful.

She still looked quite reluctant, and her movements were as slow as they could be, but at least she was eating. Alfred counted it as a victory.

After a couple of spoonsful, however, Maggie stopped and placed the bowl on the side-table.

“I truly liked it,” she said with a timid smile, “But I’m not hungry, really. Maybe I’ll eat a bit more later.”

While Alfred still wasn’t satisfied, it was a reasonable suggestion. Besides, unless it was a trick of the light, Maggie almost looked paler than before…

Alfred helped her lie down and tried to check her fever, but he wasn’t any more successful than the first time. He was quite sure that the temperature of Maggie’s forehead wasn’t healthy, however.

“Al, don’t worry,” the girl said, “I’m not so sick, I promise. I think it’s just a bad cold…”

“You’re way worse than I was,” Alfred pointed out.

He was sure that he had never been like that, so weak and trembling.

“I feel better than I look,” Maggie reassured him with a small smile, but her voice was feeble, and her lie was immediately betrayed by a shiver that Alfred’s sharp eyes didn’t miss.

Neither did they miss that Maggie’s face definitely looked paler than before.

“What can I do? Is there anything you need?”

Maggie hesitated before answering with an apologetic half-smile.

“Could you get me another blanket? There should be a couple left on the top shelf of the closet…”

Alfred quickly obeyed, his features tightening with concern. Maggie’s room wasn’t as warm as his own, but the girl was already under a heavy duvet and a fleece blanket… in spite of that, he couldn’t help but notice how she curled up on herself as he spread the blanket over her.

“I think I should check again your fever,” Alfred stated, not sure of what to do.

“I don’t think it should be any different,” retorted Maggie, but she didn’t protest when Alfred handed her the thermometer.

For once, Alfred didn’t know what to say, his mind too wrapped in concern to lighten the atmosphere. For how much Maggie kept insisting that it wasn’t anything bad, his chest felt tight with the knowledge of how much she was dismissing her condition. As soon as the thermometer beeped, the boy snatched it.

“39.7,” he read out loud, “It’s higher than earlier.”

“Not by much,” Maggie retorted immediately, “And it’s not that bad, anyway.”

Given her dismissive attitude when it came to her wellbeing, Alfred couldn’t trust the girl on that. That time, however, the boy was suddenly reminded, he could check. Alfred grabbed his backpack and roamed inside the front pocket until his hand closed around his phone with a triumphant exclamation.

“Alfred, there’s no need to do that!” Maggie immediately complained, her eyes widening in alarm, but the boy had already opened an online converter.

He almost dropped the phone as his eyes focused on the result, his body going rigid.

“103.46?!” he squealed as soon as he got back his breath, his voice an octave higher than usual. “Maggie, but this… your fever is really bad!”

The girl only looked back at him wordlessly, a glint of guilt glimmering in her eyes.

Alfred took a deep breath, trying to force his thundering heart to slow down.

“Okay,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Okay, everything is all right. I’ve got this.”

He knew that giving in to the panic that was pressing against his brain wouldn’t help, but… Maggie had such a bad fever! Alfred was quite sure that he never reached such temperatures. Did she need to go to the hospital?

The boy took another deep breath, clenching his fists.

_No, I cannot think this way._

He was fifteen years old, basically an adult, he would deal with the situation like one.

“Al, you really don’t need to worry,” Maggie said feebly, “I know that my fever is actually pretty high, but believe me, it’s normal for me. I don’t feel too bad, and I already took something so it’s going to be fine…”

The boy barely registered her words.

“I need to get this fever down,” he stated, brushing Maggie’s too hot cheek with his fingertips. “I’ll go get some water and a cloth, okay? Don’t move, I’ll be right back!”

Which was easier said than done, Alfred realized after rushing to the kitchen: he had no idea of where to find the needed items… After a bit of looking around - that kitchen was _truly_ in dire need of some cleaning, and there was more alcohol than food, but that clearly wasn’t Maggie’s fault - the boy managed to locate a bowl that he filled with water and some clean cloths. He immediately rushed back to Maggie’s room, clutching the precious items to his chest as he climbed two steps at a time.

“Here I’m back-” he started announcing, only for his eyes to meet an empty bed.

Alfred stilled as he tried to wrap his mind around the unexpected predicament. He had left Maggie on the bed, so where was she…

Suddenly, he registered the sound of water running in the room next door ( _the bathroom_?), that didn’t completely cover the retching.

“Maggie!”

Alfred barely remembered to put down the bowl before dashing to the source of the noise, without even bothering with knocking.

Maggie was kneeling in front of the toilet, her body shaking with the heaving.

Alfred found himself froze on the spot. He _knew_ what he was supposed to do in those situations - he had taken care of some drunk teammates of his before - but for some reason, it was completely _different_ , and for a moment he couldn’t bring his limbs to move.

Only when Maggie retched again the boy was brought back to reality. Gritting his teeth to swallow down a gag at the unpleasant scene, he skidded to his knees next to the girl and helped her brush back her hair, placing his other hand on her slim back. He could feel the spine tremble under his touch.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay…” he murmured soothingly, unsure of what he was saying.

Maggie shook her head, a hand weakly swatting away Alfred’s as she hacked and dry-heaved over the toilet. Undeterred, Alfred kept holding her in place until the dry heaves died down, then he helped the girl sit against the wall as he flushed down the toilet.

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, I didn’t want to…” Maggie immediately started muttering, still out of breath.

The pleading eyes that focused on Alfred’s features looked unnaturally bright, in a sick contrast with the ghostly pale skin.

Alfred shushed the girl as he handed her a tissue, and, after a quick look around, a plastic glass filled with tap water that Maggie accepted silently to rinse her mouth, refusing to look at him.

“I’m sorry…” she repeated.

Her feeble voice made Alfred’s stomach twist.

“Hey, it’s all right,” he answered with fake cheerfulness, crouching in front of the girl. “You’re sick, you couldn’t help it. Are you feeling better now?”

Maggie nodded hesitantly, finally raising her head.

“Don’t apologize,” Alfred preceded her as she opened her mouth, “Seriously, it’s no big deal. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Or embarrassed,” he added as an afterthought, because throwing up was never the most pleasant experience and Alfred himself was still shaken.

Now that his heart-beat was slowing down to a regular rate and his brain was starting to work again, however, the concern was coming back with vengeance. That wasn’t just a cold. The fever was too bad, and even throwing up like that…

“When did you start feeling…” Alfred started asking, only for the words to die in his throat as all the pieces fell into place.

“Oh Maggie, I’m so sorry!” he blurted out, instinctively taking a step back.

Alfred already had his answer, it had been in front of him the entire time - but he had been too self-absorbed to realize it.

“I… Oh God I’m so, so sorry, I don’t know how to apologize, this… this is all my fault, isn’t it? You were already feeling sick, weren’t you? And I forced you to eat… I… I’m so sorry, I don’t really know how to apologize, I should have just listened to you instead I…”

Alfred had only wanted to help, but had ended up making the situation worse. _That_ was what everybody meant when they told him he was too impulsive. Pity that Alfred never listened.

The boy could only stare at Maggie’s wan face as his voice trailed off, his stomach coiled with the knowledge that at least part of her condition was _his fault._

The girl took a deep breath.

“Alfred,” she stated, somehow managing to sound firm in spite of her weak voice. “Don’t blame yourself. Please, don’t. I’m serious. You… you have been so incredibly kind in taking care of me, you were just doing what you thought was the best. And I didn’t explain to you why I didn’t want to eat…”

That much was true, but it was _Maggie_. Alfred should know that he had to be more careful with her.

“Well, I didn’t exactly leave you enough time to do that…”

His mind was reconstructing the events: Maggie had tried to tell him, but Alfred had always cut her off. _Why_ had he done that?

Maggie sighed.

“That’s… whatever. I forgive you then, okay? I just… I’m not angry at you.”

_Of course you aren’t._

And that made things even worse. Looking at the exhaustion etched in the girl’s features, however, Alfred realized that it wasn’t the right time for a discussion.

“Thank you. I… Let’s just get you to bed, all right?”

They both got up, but Maggie immediately wavered, instinctively reaching for Alfred. The boy stepped closer, steadying her with his body.

“I’m sorry…” Maggie whispered, letting her forehead rest on Alfred’s shoulder. Her hands gripped his hoodie. “Just… I’m a bit dizzy…”

It was to be expected, given how she hadn’t probably eaten anything in a while, but that did nothing to quell the pang of concern that surged in Alfred’s chest.

Without other words, the boy picked her up and quickly brought her back to the bedroom.

“I feel a bit better now, really,” Maggie said as he laid her back on the bed, but she was shivering.

Alfred chewed his lower lip.

He had to bring down her fever - he had that wet cloth exactly for that - but would that be enough? It wasn’t going to do anything for her stomach, after all, and Maggie was already so thin, he couldn’t forget how clearly he had felt her shoulder blades and spine under his hand… Alfred found himself desperately wishing for the presence of an _adult_. Surely, Dad would know what to do.

His father, however, was out of town for a meeting with his editor, Francis had been away for almost four days and all the other adults Alfred knew were at work… he couldn’t even call Yao or Iryna for advice. He was the only person who could help, and he would have to be enough.

The boy clenched his fists and took a deep breath, and when he turned back to Maggie, he managed to offer her a beaming smile.

“You’ll feel better soon! I’ve got everything under control.”

He wrung the cloth and placed it on Maggie’s forehead before taking the desk chair to sit next to the bed. Maggie sighed, relaxing. Her cheekbones were flushed and the rest of her face pasty, and for the first time, Alfred realized that her breathing sounded slightly strained - but her lips were curled into a faint smile.

“Thank you.” She said feebly.

She didn’t seem intentioned to say anything else, or maybe she was too tired to, but the silence stretching between them left Alfred too much space to ponder the situation.

“You’re just like Dad, you know?” he found himself saying, shaking his head. “He never admits when he’s feeling sick. Once when I was seven he ignored a cold so much that it turned into pneumonia… the stupidest thing to do, if you ask me. Everybody yelled at him for that. Francis stayed at our place to take care of him, but he would be constantly lecturing him on how he needed to take a better care of himself and all that stuff… I know that Dad pretended to be asleep, but Francis caught on and he would rant anyway. Which was even worse, because Dad is insanely stubborn and didn’t want to admit that he had been faking to be asleep, so he just had to listen to the entire lecture without having the possibility to retort. You should have seen his face…”

While Alfred had meant for it to be a funny story, Maggie’s tired eyes were full of concern.

“Oh… that must have been awful. Were you all right?”

Alfred was taken aback by the question, but he shouldn’t have been. Trust Maggie to read behind his careless words the panic of a child who was already familiar with death and had seen his father collapse after a horrid coughing fit.

“No, I wasn’t,” he answered, a rueful smile curling his lips. “I panicked so much that Francis couldn’t understand what was happening when I called him, since I was bawling. But now I’m fine, and honestly, it’s perfect blackmail material. You should see how flustered Dad gets whenever this gets brought back! He keeps trying to deny, I swear…”

In spite of not looking completely convinced, Maggie looked too tired to carry on the conversation. With Alfred talking softly, making fun of his father’s reaction and Francis’s struggle between giving in to his melodramatic nature and keeping his composure to calm down a terrified Alfred, the girl slowly relaxed on the bed, her lids sliding closed. Even when he was sure that she was asleep, Alfred kept wetting her forehead, trying to feel marginally less useless than he was.

Asleep like that, with her features relaxed and her hair spread in shiny waves all over the pillow, Maggie looked like a princess belonging to a story of Dad’s. It was almost like a touch on her full, semi-parted lips would wake her up… but they were waxen instead of rosy, and the pallor of her skin looked sicklier than her usual porcelain white. Alfred diverted his gaze, sighing. Was it truly how people felt when they were sick? Dad didn’t let him come too close whenever he was feeling under the weather, so Alfred wouldn’t know…

_Maybe this is normal, and I’m worrying too much._

The thought didn’t loosen the knot at his stomach. Trying to take time, Alfred dutifully took out his homework, but that didn’t take long. After ensuring that Maggie’s condition hadn’t changed, the boy reluctantly left the chair and started piling the girl’s homework on the desk, where she would see it. She probably wouldn’t have missed it anyway: the desk was spotless, only occupied by a laptop and Maggie’s pencil case. All the books and notebooks that weren’t at school were neatly stacked on the shelves above the desk. Actually, Maggie’s entire bedroom was like that, tidy and ordered, but at the same time devoid of any personality, almost empty. It might have been because, having moved only a month before, Maggie hadn’t had time to unpack her belongings, but there was something in the room - in the entire house, actually - that made Alfred feel uneasy. It was almost as if Maggie didn’t feel comfortable enough in her own house.

The only personalized item was a framed picture at a corner of the desk. Alfred took it to have a better look.

Maggie couldn’t have been older than five, and she was looking shyly at the camera, her head half-hidden against the shoulder of the woman holding the child balanced on her hip. Her mother, Chloé Williams. The woman was at the same time remarkably similar and completely unlike Maggie. They seemed to have a similar body type, slim but curvy, the same full lips, small, upturned nose and delicate features - but Maggie was far more beautiful than her mother, with her higher cheekbones and slightly slanted eyes. Moreover, Chloé colouring was more anonymous than her daughter’s: a slightly darker, more common beige complexion, grey eyes and chestnut brown wavy hair that from what Alfred could see looked cut shorter behind her head and gradually got longer on the front, with the longest strands touching the base of her neck. Alfred couldn’t imagine Maggie with such a haircut - nor could he imagine her with the clothes her mother was wearing, simple but elegant: a black blazer over a white shirt and a pair of red trousers that bared her ankles, evidencing the shiny high-heeled shoes. Chloé looked confident, staring straight at the camera and with a crimson lipstick covering her curled lips. Maggie surely hadn’t taken after her, as far as her personality was concerned. That was curious… Alfred almost wanted to ask Maggie, but the question was probably bound to make her uneasy. He had just had a painful proof of how the girl reacted to that, it was up to him to control himself.

Sighing, Alfred sat back on the chair and took out his phone, playing to divert his mind from the concern. Maggie had been sleeping for a while, but maybe that was normal, sick people needed to rest. Besides, at a quick check, her forehead felt slightly cooler.

Hours later, Alfred started gathering his belongings. Maggie was still sleeping, her breathing slightly strained but deep, but he would have to wake her up soon: since his father was out of town, he had been invited for dinner by Gilbert along with Feliciano and Kiku, and Ludwig was picking him up in twenty minutes.

Biting back the slight guilt he was already feeling, Alfred gently shook Maggie’s shoulder. The girl blinked a couple of times before turning her head to a side.

“Mmh… Al?”

Maggie’s voice was slurred, but her hazy eyes managed to focus on the boy.

“Hey,” he answered softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “How are you feeling?”

Maggie hesitated, her forehead furrowing as she contemplated the question.

“Better,” she said in the end, her voice weak but clearer. “Thank you, Al.”

Alfred’s heart missed a beat at that smile, faint but so genuine, so clearly _for_ _him_.

“Oh, I’d do this again any time you need,” he answered dumbly, barely aware of the word that went past his lips.

The only thing he could focus on was Maggie’s full, soft lips, her gorgeous lilac eyes. There was something _wrong_ with the way his heart was beating…

Right then, a screeching announced a car skidding on the lawn.

Alfred gasped, straightening up, and Maggie’s eyes widened as any colour left was drained from her face.

“You shouldn’t be here!” she squealed, panic seeping through her voice.

Alfred needed a moment to remember that her step-father didn’t want Maggie frequenting boys, and the situation clearly didn’t look good: he was inside her bedroom, with Maggie wearing only a pyjama…

The girl jerked up. She wavered slightly, but her eyes were alert and she refused Alfred’s help.

“The window,” she whispered, her forehead creased in concentration. “We’re on the second floor, but the drop isn’t too high. Do you think you could manage jumping down as soon as Steve gets in?”

Alfred knew he could, the grass would cushion his fall.

“Of course, this is nothing!”

Maggie got to her feet and took his backpack as Alfred was putting on his coat.

“I’ll throw it when you’re down.”

Alfred nodded and opened the window, leaning over to check the jump just as the front door was opened loudly. Maggie gasped, hurrying next to him.

“Al, quick!”

Alfred offered her a confident smile, and in a sudden impulse, he brushed his lips against the girl’s cheek before jumping down. A moment later he rolled on the grass and got up, unharmed. His backpack followed shortly.

After a last glance and a wave at a dazed-looking Maggie, Alfred dashed through the lawn. He was intentioned to get out from the fence, but as soon as he turned, he saw Francis standing in the confining courtyard, staring at him with an odd expression. The man sharply gestured for him to come closer, and Alfred immediately complied, light-headed with relief.

He hadn’t expected Francis to be already back, but that was a blessing. He would know what to do.

* * *

 

Francis couldn’t believe his eyes. He had been calmly watering his lilies when he had casually raised his head to see Alfred leaning out of Marguerite’s window.

That alone was surprising, and it had made his stomach drop - Marguerite’s step-father had just got home, Francis had seen his car. He didn’t know why Alfred was there, but Steve surely wouldn’t be happy about it… Francis would have expected Marguerite to _know_ it. The situation, however, had only turned more surreal.

Marguerite had joined Alfred, her hair messy and, even from that distance, Francis could clearly see how heavily flushed her cheeks were. Not to mention the fact that what she was wearing looked dangerously like a _pyjama top_.

Unable to avert his eyes, Francis watched as she said something, clearly frantic. Alfred simply smiled and pecked her on a cheek, then jumped.

Francis's heart missed a beat - but Alfred hit the ground in a neat roll and immediately got up, unharmed. Marguerite threw something at him (his school bag?), and the boy turned from the house, running through the lawn.

Francis was left gaping at the scene, his brain refusing to connect the dots.

_What are they doing?!_

All the evidence pointed at a single thing - Francis had been that age, he remembered the raging hormones, but… that wasn’t like any of them, they were both too naïve. Had his judgement been so wrong?

As he was running, Alfred’s eyes landed on Francis.

The man immediately gestured for the teen to reach him. Ha hadn’t yet decided what to do, but he couldn’t let something like that slide.

Alfred’s face morphed into a relieved expression, and he got closer to the fence without a single objection, he even quickened his pace.

That did nothing to ease Francis’s worries. Just what was going on?

Alfred started talking as he jumped the fence, slightly out of breath.

“Francis! Oh, thank God you’re here, I…”

“Not here, come inside first!” Francis snapped, grabbing the boy’s wrist as he anxiously stared at the neighbouring house.

If Marguerite’s step-father saw something from the windows, there would be troubles…

Alfred didn’t protest, but as soon as Francis closed the door behind them he pleadingly grabbed the man’s sleeve.

“Francis, you have to help!” he blurted out, concern shining in his eyes. “I went to Maggie’s because she wasn’t at school, and I wanted to help but she’s really sick, she has this very bad fever and she threw up and I didn’t really know what to do, maybe I should have taken her to the hospital, I don’t know, and her step-dad sounds like a real asshole and I don’t think he’s going to take care of her, so you have to do something!”

Francis’s stomach felt hollow. No, that wasn’t what he had imagined, yet somehow it was almost worse.

“Alfred, listen to me,” he said with a calm voice, his hand giving the teen’s shoulder a light squeeze. “Take a deep breath and try to tell me properly what happened.”

Alfred managed to take a shaky breath. His body was still trembling slightly.

“You said Marguerite is sick?” asked Francis, trying not to let his own concern show in his voice.

Alfred nodded, sniffling.

“And she had a very very bad fever. 103.46. Should I have taken her to the hospital? I couldn’t even do anything, all I had was a damp towel and some cold water…”

The teen’s voice was getting more and more agitated with each word.

“Alfred, calm down,” repeated Francis, trying to keep his raising worry at bay. “You did good, you did everything you could. And yes, that fever does sound pretty high, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she needed a hospital trip. She was coherent, wasn’t she?”

Alfred nodded.

“It’s okay then, you did everything that needed to be done,” Francis reassured him. He himself didn’t fully believe his own words, but Alfred looked distraught enough, Francis couldn’t let him worry even more.

The teen nodded again, his features relaxing slightly.

“Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?” Francis asked, hoping to divert his attention from the worrisome situation.

Alfred gasped.

“Oh, you’re right!” he exclaimed, his voice livelier.

Immediately, he produced his phone and started typing. (Francis still couldn’t come to term with how fast he could be. How in the earth did he do that?)

“Ludwig said he’s picking me up in ten minutes,” Alfred said in the end.

Francis gave a dramatic shake of his head.

“Arthur could have told me you were home alone, _mon chou,_ I would have gladly cooked you a dinner.”

“He didn’t know when you were coming back, and you never answer your phone when you are away," Alfred reminded him, his tone lighter. Which had been exactly Francis’s intent. (that, and he was mildly offended by Arthur’s actions. He had been looking after Alfred since he was born, he could have at least asked!)

Alfred, however, suddenly turned serious.

“And what about Maggie?”

Francis took a deep breath, running a hand through his hairs.

“I’ll come up with something,” he promised.

He wasn’t doing that for Alfred, the thought of that sweet girl once again alone and sick was tightening his chest. Ignoring that was unbearable.

There was only a hole in his plan, but it wasn’t a small one. Francis could only hope he would be in a good mood.

The man waited for Alfred to disappear with Kiku and Ludwig, and a few minutes later he was at his neighbours’ door, and affable smile sculpted on his face.

The heavy steps, laced with curses, that followed the bell’s ringing didn’t leave any doubt to the identity of the person who was going to greet him at the door, that was soon thrust open.

“The fuck you want?” growled Steve.

Francis could put a cross on him being in a good mood.

Which didn’t mean he was willing to be influenced by his interlocutor’s distinct lack of manners, however. Unlike most people around him, Francis wasn’t a barbarian.

“Good evening,” he said, the smile never slipping from his face.

Steve kept staring at him, a deep frown marring his already unfriendly features.

“What in the fucking hell are you doing here?!” he growled after a few moments of silence, crossing his arms in front of his chest in a pathetic attempt to look threatening.

Francis scoffed internally.

He still couldn’t understand how Marguerite, so sweet and kind, could put up with her stepfather’s behaviour, let alone justify it. At that moment, his greatest desire was to express exactly what he thought of that mockery of a human being that was right in front of his eyes, but as a civilized person, he had to restrain himself.

“I only wanted to ask if you needed anything,” he said smoothly, “Marguerite texted me to say she can’t come and clean because she has fallen ill, so I wanted to let you know that if you need anything for her I’m available.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised, then twitched.

“Did Maggie ask you to come?” he asked as his face clouded over.

“Oh, no!” Francis answered hurriedly as his already meagre esteem for Steve collapsed. “She simply mentioned she had taken ill… she actually told me that it wasn’t anything serious, but sometimes it can be difficult to judge, and even the smallest things can develop into something quite serious… which is why, if you need anything for Marguerite, I’ll be glad to help… I can take care of her when you are at work, I have a few slow days…”

For a moment, Francis almost held onto the hope that his proposal had been accepted - then, Steve’s featured turned into a mask of rage.

“Are you insinuating that I can’t take care of my step-daughter?!” He hissed, his nostrils quivering.

That much was painfully clear, but for how much Francis wanted to yell it to Steve’s face, it wasn’t an option. He had Marguerite’s wellbeing to worry about, which was far more important than his own pride.

The man took a step back, his mind frantically trying to find a way to salvage the situation.

“Oh, no, of course not, I just thought that since you’re a single parent a bit of help would…”

“Well, I don’t need any help, and stay away from my home, you fucking frog!”

And with that, Steve slammed the door closed in front of Francis’s face.

“…Well, fuck you too.” Francis scoffed at the closed door.

He had no idea of how such cavemen were still allowed in society, but that was a secondary problem in front of Marguerite’s situation.

Francis needed a different plan, because he surely wasn’t going to surrender like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 102.38 °F = 39.1 °C  
> 39.6 °C = 103.28 °F  
> 39.7 °C = 103.46 °F
> 
> …You didn’t truly think that Maggie was going to avoid catching at least a cold, did you? I’d apologize but I’m not even truly sorry, sickfics are my number 1 guilty pleasure. And I hope that this chapter didn’t feel like a pointless filler because in my mind there are actually some very important scenes haha.
> 
> Alfred mentioned Yao and Iryna because they’re a doctor and a nurse.
> 
> Claudia is an OC who wasn’t originally meant to be more than a name, but while she doesn’t really care for children and doesn’t want any commitment with Steve, let alone taking care of his step-daughter, she’s not a horrible person, and what she thought about Maggie and Francis wasn’t something she could let slide. There’s a reason she got to that conclusion, by the way, and I bet you can all guess it. Anyway, being an OC Claudia is never going to be a truly relevant character, but she is a plot device so she’ll be around some other times. (I’m really using way too many OCs whoops… I hope nobody is too bothered, I mean, they aren’t main characters, I just didn’t feel like using Hetalia characters for some roles… had I planned it better, I would have probably used a bunch of 2Ps and made them unrelated to their canon counterparts, but I wasn’t familiar with the concept when I started writing this.)
> 
> Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this chapter! And if you did or if you have anything to say, please consider leaving a review :)
> 
>  **EDIT!** I have changed Lithuania's and Hungary's names to their more accurate versions, Tolys and Erzsébet, since the most accepted fanon versions (probably results of an inaccurate transliteration from Katakana) aren't real names in their countries. I wrote a more detailed post about it on tumblr [[x](https://feyna-v.tumblr.com/post/171013874995/hetalia-human-names-and-accuracy)], if anybody is interested. It's not actually a big deal, but I wanted to warn you.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And for once, I updated in less than a month! (spoiler: don’t get used to it) Thanks a lot for all the support you’ve been giving me, everybody here is wonderful!
> 
> Warnings: I hardly have any medical knowledge - and anyway, neither do my characters. I’m trying to have them react as normal people would, I hope there’s nothing too far-fetched here.  
> Francis and Maggie are speaking in French when their dialogues are italicized.  
> English isn't my first language, I apologize for the mistakes.

Maggie collapsed on the bed.

Having a shower when she was hardly strong enough to stand without leaning on something hadn’t been one of her brightest ideas, she still couldn’t figure out _how_ she had managed to convince herself that washing her hair would be doable. She blamed it on the fever. And the fact that her hair had been sweaty and itchy, making her feel gross all over, but _still_.

Dirty hair had started looking a lot more bearable after Maggie had had to spend most of the time kneeling on the shower’s floor, too dizzy to stand. After she had finished showering, it had taken her at least other ten minutes to gather enough strength to stand up and wobble back to her bedroom, using the wall as support.

And she still had to dress up and dry her hair, but one thing at a time.

Clothes seemed the most important issue.

The girl grabbed a pair of panties and a bra from a drawer, followed by one of her old hockey jerseys. She still needed pants - a pair of leggings would probably be fine - but the drawer where she kept them was way too far away. The minimal effort required to put on those articles of clothes had still been enough to make her head spin. Maybe she should check her fever, when had been the last time she had taken something for it?

Oh, it must have been around four hours earlier. Maggie could vaguely remember trying to swallow some Tylenol, and then promptly throwing it up.

No, there was no point in checking her fever, not if she couldn’t take anything to lower it, anyway. Her stomach still felt a bit unsettled - not enough that Maggie feared to throw up right there and then, but the faint cramps hitting from time to time told her that eating anything wouldn’t be wise.

What she really needed to do was to dry her hair. Keeping it wet seemed tempting, but in her conditions, it would probably result in pneumonia. She certainly didn’t need to add that to her ailments.

“Maggie?”

Steve’s voice made her start. The man was standing in front of her bedroom, for once sober and groomed, dressed in a cleanly pressed shirt and suit pants.

“I’m going away in a moment, as soon as Joshua arrives. I’ll be back for Saturday evening.”

Maggie nodded. A corner of her mind was begging her to straighten up, she couldn’t be disrespectful, but she was too drained to care. She vaguely recalled Steve mentioning something like that - it was the reason he had avoided her like plague in the last few days, Maggie suddenly remembered. There was something ironic in that notion.

Oddly, Steve seemed hesitant. He lingered at the doorway, fidgeting on his feet, his features contracted in an expression Maggie couldn’t read.

“You’re not too sick, are you?” the man ground out in the end, his jaw rigid as if each word took him an incredible effort. “I can trust you alone for a couple of days, right?”

“Of course, I’ll be fine,” Maggie answered immediately, offering Steve her best smile in spite of the way her chest tightened.

Steve had some important work to do, he shouldn’t be worrying about her…

The man nodded jerkily before turning his rigid back to her.

“Well, I’ll be going then.”

Maggie kept staring at his squared shoulders as they moved away, guilt scratching at her insides for the malicious thoughts that had assaulted her brain in the last couple of days - yes, Steve being present or not hadn’t made any difference for her, since she had had to take care of herself on her own, however, the man had just proved that he _would_ have done something, if Maggie had truly needed it. Like usual, she was just being overdramatic and needy.

Alfred’s attentions were making her too self-indulging - Maggie knew that they had been unnecessary. It had just been Alfred being his usual caring and helpful self.

In spite of that knowledge, Maggie couldn’t stop her thoughts from lingering with longing on the memories of the previous afternoon, and Alfred’s stream of messages to check on her stirred contrasting feelings. The boy’s concern was deeply touching, yet it left a strange void if compared to Steve’s indifference.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Maggie’s phone vibrated with a new message.

 **(The Hero!) <** _Hey, did your step-dad just leave? Is he coming back soon?_

Maggie had already answered when she realized how strange the question was. How could Alfred know where Steve was?

She was about to ask him when the doorbell rang. The girl moaned, nausea blossoming in her cramped stomach at the mere thought of dragging her weary body downstairs.

Maggie seriously caressed the idea of dismissing whoever was outside before her heart leapt into her throat at the realization of _who_ the only culprit could be.

_Does this mean that Al has been outside the entire time, waiting for Steve to leave?_

Maggie was engulfed by a sudden feeling of warmth as her brain struggled to grasp the notion that Alfred would do something so big _for her_. She knew that he was kind and loved being helpful, but getting to that point? It was probably the first time in her life somebody had done so, and she couldn’t believe it felt so _good_.

The wave of guilt that immediately followed almost left the girl out of breath: Alfred surely had better things to do, but with her whiny behaviour, she had managed to worry him so much that he wanted to make sure she was fine. Maggie _did_ know how easily Alfred got concerned, why hadn’t she been able to restrain herself the day before? She couldn’t believe how pathetic she was…

In any case, she couldn’t leave Alfred waiting.

Stubbornly ignoring the shivers wreaking her body and the way the world seemed to tether on its axis, Maggie wobbled to the doorway, clutching the bannister to keep herself from falling as she stepped down the stairs.

Alfred’s face met hers as she opened the door, his forehead wrinkled and his eyes shining with worry behind the glasses.

But Alfred wasn’t alone.

Next to him, looking just as concerned but doing a better job of hiding it, stood Francis.

Maggie instinctively took a step back, her eyes widening in confusion.

“Al, Francis? What…”

Francis didn’t let her finish. With an anguished gasp, he stepped closer and pressed his right hand against Maggie’s forehead, brushing back her damp bangs.

“Marguerite, you’re burning up!” he said, his voice laced with concerned alarm. “Why didn’t you tell me anything?!”

Maggie faltered, her brain still failing to grasp the situation. Was Francis even supposed to be back yet? …Well, clearly he was, since he was standing in front of her.

“I…”

Maggie’s body was shaken by a sudden, strong tremor. Alfred and Francis exchanged a quick look.

Before the girl could come to terms with what was happening, each of them took hold of one of her arms and led her into the house. Too stunned to react, Maggie followed their lead.

Alfred and Francis walked her to the living room, where they pushed her on the sofa. Alfred took off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Maggie automatically curled up under the pleasant warmth as she offered Alfred a grateful - if slightly confused - smile.

“I’ll be right back,” the boy said, petting Maggie’s hair before dashing away.

His steps thumped against the stair - part of Maggie was wondering what he was trying to do, but most of her sluggish mind was for accepting it blindly. There wasn’t a single thing that was making any sense.

The girl was brought back to reality when Francis knelt in front of her, his features distorted by concern.

“ _Marguerite, why didn’t you tell me you were sick and home alone?_ ” he asked, distress seeping through his voice.

Maggie shrugged. Even knowing that Francis would be back, she couldn’t see any reason she needed to tell him… The man, however, looked almost hurt by her shortcoming.

“ _I’m not_ that _sick,_ ” she said weakly, wrapping her arms around herself.

Francis clicked his tongue, his frown deepening.

“ _Marguerite, you are clearly ill_.”

A hand cupped the girl’s chin, then slid to her cheek, where it rested for a few moments.

“ _You feel so warm… Did you take anything for the fever? Did your step-dad at least try to do something to make you feel better?_ ”

The way Francis never used Steve’s first name was quite odd, how had Maggie never noticed before? …but at that moment, that shouldn’t have been her main concern. Why was she even thinking about it?

“ _I don’t feel that bad, really,_ ” she muttered, “ _I’m very sorry I made you worry, I truly am, but it’s nothing serious, really.  Steve would have stayed if it was_.”

Francis’s wrinkled forehead let Maggie understand that her words hadn’t been convincing, but she couldn’t think of anything else to say.

The man bit his lip. His eyes were shining with worry.

“ _Marguerite, how long is he going to be away?_ ”

“ _He said he was coming back on Sunday evening_.”

As soon as the words left her mouth, Maggie realized that she had made a huge mistake. Francis’s eyes widened, he visibly paled as he brought a hand to his chest. For a long moment, the man seemed too stunned to talk.

“ _Do you mean he’s going to leave you alone for three days when you are this sick?!_ ” he spluttered in the end, his voice thick with outrage.

Maggie recoiled on the couch.

“ _But I’m not that sick_ …” was the only thing she could lamely say. The weakness in her voice didn’t help her plea.

Francis scoffed as he rose from his crouch.

 _“You’re ill, ma chérie, and nothing you could say could convince me of the contrary”_ he declared, folding his arms across his chest.

Maggie swallowed thickly, trying to bring relief to her parched throat. She had to talk, she couldn’t let Francis worry so much - but her mind felt sluggish, plagued by a slight throbbing, and she could find no words.

Fortunately, heavy steps against the stairs announced Alfred’s return.

“I’m done!” the boy declared as he skipped the last two steps with a small jump. He had Maggie’s schoolbag swung over his shoulder, and some blankets bundled in his arms.

Maggie stared at him, uncomprehendingly.

“Shall we go, then?” Alfred asked, looking at Francis for confirmation.

“Go where?” Maggie echoed, straightening up. Uneasiness was creeping over her at the realization that there was some vital piece of information she was missing.

Alfred stepped closer, stretching his arm to run a hand through the girl’s hair. A slight frown tightened his features.

“Why is your hair wet?” he asked, ignoring Maggie’s question, the concern clear in voice. “Did you do it to try to lower the fever?”

“Oh, no.” the girl answered immediately, “I didn’t need to.” Or did she? Maybe keeping her hair wet was a good idea… but she had to focus on the conversation, or Alfred would worry. “It was just in need of a washing…”

Francis groaned.

“For the love of God, please, tell me that you were using a bathtub a not the shower…”

Maggie fidgeted on the couch, and her silence was enough for Francis to draw his conclusions.

 “ _Mon Dieu!_ How could it cross your mind? Don’t you have any self-preservation instinct? You could’ve fainted, you could’ve hit your head!”

Even Alfred took a step back at the outburst, his eyes widening as they focused on Francis, but the way the tension never left his features told Maggie that he was worried for her admission as well. The girl curled up against the sofa.

“But I wasn’t alone, Steve was home…”

The incredulous look Francis shot Maggie clearly told that he didn’t consider it a sufficient precaution, but at the sight of the girl’s uneasiness the man took a deep breath and closed his eyes. His features smoothened down when he opened them again.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to lose my temper,” Francis said gently, bending over Maggie to brush back her bangs. “I’m not angry at you, _ma chérie_. I’m just worried, you have such a bad fever…”

Before Maggie could apologize, Alfred claimed the attention with a click of his tongue.

“So, what are we going to do?”

In spite of his lively voice, the rigid posture betrayed the boy’s concern, making a weight press down Maggie’s stomach. One day had already been too much, how could she convince him that she was fine?

Francis’s answer came without hesitation.

“Her step-father is going to be away until Sunday, so I’d say we should just go. And leave the blankets, I have enough home.”

“Go _where_?” Maggie asked for a second time, as Alfred dropped the blankets on the couch.

In spite of the tender smile Francis offered Maggie, his features were tight with determination.

“We can’t possibly leave you alone in these conditions,” he declared, “So, I’d say that until your step-father comes back you’re staying at my place.”

_…What?_

Maggie had heard wrong, she was sure of that. She _must_ have, because Francis couldn’t possibly… the man’s features, however, showed only determination.

Alfred took advantage of the girl’s stunned silence to lift her in his arms.

“Alfred!” Maggie cried out weakly, trying to wriggle out of his grasp, but the boy only tightened his hold.

“A-Al, put me down, I’m heavy, and anyway I’m not going anywhere, I can’t just leave and…”

“Nope!” Alfred answered cheerfully as he started walking towards the door. “You’re coming with us now! I know that you’re modest and everything, but you need somebody to take care of you and that’s what we’re doing!”

“What Alfred means,” Francis cut in as he moved to the boy’s side, “Is that we can’t leave you alone, Marguerite. I know that you can take care of yourself, but not when you’re sick. And I’m not backing off on this, _ma_ _chérie_. You can hardly stand!”

That wasn’t completely wrong. In truth, part of Maggie was grateful for Alfred carrying her since she didn’t particularly fancy standing, but that was only the minor issue.

“I’m not this sick, really! And… I’m so grateful for the way you’re worrying for me, I really am and I could never thank you enough, but I can assure you that there’s absolutely no need for this. I don’t want to be a bother and make you waste your time, really, I…”

Alfred stopped dead, making Maggie start, but Francis was the one who started talking, his voice laced with distress.

“Marguerite! How can you even _think_ this? You’re not a bother, and you’re not wasting anybody’s time! You’re ill, and you need somebody taking care of you! How can you even think that this would bother me?”

A pang of guilt made Maggie’s stomach turn. She hadn’t meant to insinuate that Francis might not take care of her out of goodness of his heart, he was so altruistic that in a twisted logic he probably truly didn’t mind doing that. That didn’t make it right, however: Maggie’s _entire existence_ was an inconvenience.

“I…”

“Maggie.” Alfred’s voice was uncharacteristically sombre. “I thought we had already talked about this, but… you spent two entire afternoons with me when I was sick - and I wasn’t nearly as sick as you’re now, anyway. Was it a waste of time, for you? Did you do it only because you felt forced to?”

A heavy lump closed off Maggie’s throat. How could she make the situation worse with every word that went past her lips? She had even managed to hurt Alfred…

“No, of course not! I… _believe me,_ I came because I wanted to, _I_ was the one who asked you, weren’t I? I wouldn’t have if I had thought it would be a waste of time…” she stammered desperately, twisting to look at Alfred’s face.

Instead of being angry or disappointed, the boy offered her a smile, but it was different from his usual ones. Smaller, yet gentler.

“No need to get worked up over this. I believe you. But the point is: it’s the same for me, don’t you think? I want to help you because I care for you and I hate seeing you sick. I thought I had made it clear yesterday, didn’t I?”

Alfred’s words sounded perfectly reasonable, but at the same time, Maggie knew that they weren’t.

“It’s not the same,” she muttered, “And I already let you waste yesterday!” For how so terribly nice it had been. “Besides, you were here. I… I can’t go to Francis’s place!”

That was another, insurmountable problem. Maybe, if they hadn’t mentioned taking her away, Maggie would have let Alfred and Francis take care of her - _even if she wasn’t Alfred, even if she didn’t deserve it_ \- because she was _weak_. Staying at Francis’s house, however… Maggie couldn’t forget Claudia’s words. She had tried to, but they kept gnawing at her brain, taunting her. The girl badly _wanted_ to convince herself that nobody else was going to notice, that it was only Claudia for strange reasons jumping to conclusions, but… what if she weren’t? The immensity of what she had insinuated weighted on Maggie’s chest like a bag of concrete. People would talk. And Francis could get in so many troubles… Maggie’s head was spinning at the mere thought. She c _ouldn’t_ be the cause of that.

Francis sighed tiredly.

“Marguerite… we would need a long conversation about this, but I guess it’s not the moment. And I realize that you would be more comfortable staying here… I would gladly camp here for the next couple of days, believe me, but it’s not the ideal arrangement.”

Maggie turned her head against Alfred’s shoulder to hide a grimace, her skin crawling at the sudden realization of what Francis had witnessed: the floor covered in crumbs and beer cans, some had even spilt on the carpet… Maggie would have normally cleaned it, but in the last few days, she had been too weak.

“You’re too sick for that right now, _ma chérie_. Your fever is so high… I need to be at my place, I need to know where everything is. Don’t you see? You coming to my house actually makes things easier for us.”

Francis would have a point. If it weren’t for those evil, treacherous words that still filled Maggie’s ears. How could she explain him, however?

“And Marguerite.” Francis’s voice was so sweet that Maggie almost felt like crying. “That’s not the only point. Alfred and I are so worried for you… At least, taking care of you would let us see how you feel. If we had to go away, we would only be even more concerned and we would never be able to relax. So, by letting us take care of you, you’re doing us a favour, don’t you see?”

Maggie’s head was spinning. In some sort of contorted logic, Francis’s words _did_ make sense, and her chest was clenching at the mere thought of causing him and Alfred any more distress. Any course of action she would take at that point would damage both of them.

Alfred’s voice brought the girl back to reality.

“Hey, not that I mind carrying you, Maggie, you’re light and I’m strong, but uh… could we move? Just, like…”

Maggie gasped, suddenly aware of the fact that Alfred had been holding her weight for far too long.

“I… sorry!” she squealed, “I…”

The boy, however, merely winked at her.

“No problems, really. If you let me carry you to Francis’s home, it’ll be okay. So?”

Maggie should have refused, but the short discussion had drained her. And maybe, if Alfred was there as well, it wouldn’t be so bad? Besides, nobody would know, she wouldn’t put Francis in troubles… Her reasoning was weak and she was perfectly aware of it, but Maggie didn’t know how to protest anymore.

“Okay…” she said feebly, letting her body go limp in Alfred’s hold as she rested her head against his shoulder.

Francis’s reassuring hand landed on her head, patting it for a moment.

“That’s good, _ma chérie_.” He exhaled, sounding relieved.

 _‘It’s not good, you’re a weakling.’_ A voice whispered in Maggie’s head, but the girl said nothing as Alfred and Francis set off again towards the door.

The cold air that hit the girl outside made her shiver, and she curled against Alfred’s pleasantly warm body. The boy tightened his hold, but neither he nor Francis said anything as they quickened their pace.

Once inside Francis’s house, Maggie was brought to her usual guest room and laid on the bed, among soft sheets. Maggie curled up under the blankets, and after a look at her trembling frame, Alfred added other two of them. He was smiling, but concern was etched in the lines around his eyes.

Before Maggie could say something to comfort him, Francis came back with the thermometer.

“Open up.”

The girl obediently took the offered device, conscious that fighting back would only delay the inevitable and make Alfred and Francis worry even more.

The minutes seemed to stretch into an eternity. Alfred was sitting in front of the mattress, anxiously tapping the floor with a foot, while Francis had taken place on the armchair in front of the bed. Maggie's chest was tight with the anticipation of their reactions, she had to apply a conscious effort to take full breaths.

The girl started praying for the thermometer to be broken - it was quite unlikely, but sometimes it happened. Why couldn’t it be that time? Luck wasn’t on her side, however, and the silence was finally broken by the dreaded beeping.

Francis immediately grabbed the thermometer and Alfred scooted closer to him, his forehead creased in apprehension. Both gasped in horror.

“103.89?!”

Two pairs of petrified blue eyes focused on Maggie. The girl hid her head against the sheets as her stomach gave a painful lurch.

“I-it’s not as bad as it looks like, really…”

Alfred clicked his tongue, a mixture of surprise and worry written on his features, but Francis spoke first.

“ _Marguerite, that’s a horribly high fever!”_ he said, slipping to French, his voice thick with concern.

He looked about to add something, but after a quick glance at Alfred’s pale face and wide, panic-filled eyes he took a deep breath. The second time he spoke it was in English, and his voice was forcefully calm.

“Right. Marguerite, nobody is angry at you, but please, I need you to cooperate for this.”

Maggie raised her head and nodded weakly, trying to ignore the lump in her throat. Causing other inconveniencies was the last thing she wanted.

“Francis, should we take her to the hospital?”

Alfred’s voice was filled with anguish. Maggie had never seen him so pale, and his lost eyes felt like a stab - but that wasn’t her main concern. His words made the blood run cold in her veins.

“No, there’s no need for a hospital!” she protested weakly, trying to sit up.

A strong bout of dizziness washed over her. Francis’s hands clasped her shoulder, gently but with enough strength to force her down.

Maggie struggled against the hold, her breathing pitching up. She couldn’t afford Francis getting her to the hospital, it was the worst scenario she could imagine, Steve would surely be warned… she couldn’t even begin to imagine the punishment. Not only Steve would have to interrupt his work for such an unnecessary triviality, but he would also know that Francis and Alfred had walked inside his house, that Maggie was constantly in contact with them. No temporary good mood given by Claudia could save her from that. Maggie could already feel his rough hand descending on her, the alcoholic breath in her nostrils and the air was caught in her lungs…

_“Marguerite, ma chérie, please, calm down.”_

When Francis’s soothing voice scattered her uncoordinated thoughts, Maggie realized that she was hyperventilating. The man was bent over her, his hands gently gripping the girl’s shoulders, anchoring her to reality. His eyes, filled with concern, met Maggie’s panicked ones.

Focusing on the feeling of those familiar, strong hands, Maggie forced herself to take a deep, shuddering breath. Francis’s features relaxed as he offered her a warm smile.

 _“There, there, just like that. Just focus on breathing,”_ he said soothingly.

Maggie closed her eyes, trying to block out everything but the familiar, smooth voice that sounded so much like home. It took more than a few moments, but in the end, she was able to slow her breathing to a more bearable rhythm. Francis’s hands never left her shoulders.

“ _Are you feeling better now?_ ” he asked in the end.

His lips were curved into a soft, tender smile, but his eyes were still clouded by concern, and his brow knitted.

Maggie nodded.

“Maggie, are you okay?”

Only hearing those word, said in an uncharacteristically small voice, the girl remembered that Alfred had witnessed the episode. The boy was sitting stiffly on the edge of the mattress, clutching the blanket, his face pale and drawn and his eyes huge behind the glasses. Maggie was quite sure she had never seen him so scared. A pang of guilt blossomed in her stomach.

“Sorry…” she whispered, smiling sheepishly, “It’s just… I don’t really like hospitals. Mama…” she let her voice trail off.

Alfred let out a shaky breath as his body relaxed slightly, and Francis expression’s softened. Maggie didn’t need to add anything, they both knew how her mother had died.

The girl couldn’t meet their eyes. It wasn’t _properly_ a lie - during the months Chloé had been ill, she had grown painfully familiar with the aseptic smell of disinfectant that couldn’t completely hide the scent of decay and infection, the pained moans of the ills that mixed with the muffled weeping of their loved ones, haunting the corridors, and the sterile, indifferent white that covered every surface. The mere thought of setting a foot in that place another time filled her with revulsion - but it wasn’t the real issue.

“Okay,” Francis said after having left the girl a moment to recollect herself. “No hospital then, but we still absolutely need to bring that fever down. Have you already taken something? Are you allergic to something?”

With a sinking feeling, Maggie finally gave in to the realization that withholding information wasn’t going to help anybody, at that point.

 _‘Or maybe, you’re just trying to convince yourself because you’re just an attention whore who wants them to take care of her,’_ a taunting voice whispered in her ear, but for once Maggie ignored it. She was too tired, and she needed to focus on the conversation at hand.

“No to both. But I don’t think I could keep anything down, to be honest… I’m a bit nauseous.”

Francis’s frown deepened.

“Define ‘a bit’. Do you think you couldn’t keep down even a pill?”

“Uhm…” Maggie swallowed the strong impulse to hide her face against the pillow, forcing herself to keep eye-contact with Francis. “I _did_ try to take some Tylenol a couple of hours ago, but I threw up. I’ve been drinking a bit of water, I can keep that down, but nothing more. I don’t think it would be any different now.”

Alfred gasped as a spark of understanding lit his eyes.

“Have you eaten _anything_ since yesterday?” he asked anxiously, bending closer.

Lying to see the creases on Alfred’s forehead smooth down looked incredibly tempting… but what, then? It would bring even more questions, questions Maggie was too tired and dazed to answer convincingly to. Trying to ignore the way her stomach twisted, the girl realized that she could tell nothing but the truth.

“No. I didn’t even try, honestly, I just… really didn’t feel like eating.”

It was a nice way to put the cramps that had started plaguing her stomach the previous afternoon, but it wasn’t completely wrong.

Alfred’s features darkened as he nodded, biting his lower lip.

Francis gasped.

“When was the last time you ate something?” he asked urgently, brushing Maggie’s bangs away from her forehead as if his touch could help the girl focus on him. His hand was trembling slightly.

“…I ate something Wednesday at dinner…” Maggie mumbled.

She had also vomited it, but maybe a bit of nutrients had been left…

Alfred and Francis exchanged a worried glance, but at the sight of the boy’s blatant concern, Francis managed to school his features into a tight smile.

“But you said you can drink, didn’t you?”

Maggie nodded eagerly, relief blossoming in her chest at the thought of alleviating - even slightly - the man’s concern.

“I’ve been drinking almost constantly. Only a couple of sips at a time, but I can keep down some water.”

This time, Francis’s smile looked more genuine.

“Okay, you two just wait here for a moment.”

Alfred nodded solemnly. Unlike Francis, he hadn’t relaxed. His back was too straight, his left hand was clutching the blanket so tightly that he looked about to tear it.

Maggie sighed tiredly.

“Al…”

Her hand landed on the boy’s one. Her hold wasn’t strong enough to tear it away from the blanket, but after a moment, Alfred’s hand lost its tension and released its hold on sheets, shifting to intertwine their fingers.

The girl offered him a slight smile.

“There’s nothing to worry about, I _swear_. It’s going to be all right. It’s not the first time… I’m not the healthiest person on this planet, and every time I get sick I get a high fever and I feel awful, but it’s normal. Give me a couple of days and I’ll be completely fine.”

In spite of the doubt still clouding his eyes, Alfred relaxed slightly and tightened his hold on Maggie’s hand. It was too strong - but at the same time, solid and confident. _Safe_.

“You’d better recover quickly,” the boy said. His light intonation was forced, but at least he was talking again. “You know, everybody asked about you today. Feliks’s finally back, and he’s sorry that you got sick as well… and Feli and Erika wanted to come too, but we thought that you might feel more comfortable around fewer people - you know, since you’re sick and tired and all.”

A pang of pleased surprise blossomed in Maggie’s chest. Rationally, she knew that Alfred’s words had a point, and she should have expected them as well - she had received multiple messages enquiring about her health. At the same time, the novelty was too big for her dazed mind to completely grasp it. In her old schools, people would hardly realize that Maggie was missing…

“…And Braginsky was very sorry that you’re sick as well. He said that he hoped you would get better in time for your next game, but you know, I don’t think it was only that… he even came to look for me since I was with you yesterday… I mean, he looked genuinely worried…”

Alfred’s words brought a smile to Maggie’s lips. Alfred and Ivan’s rivalry was mostly the result of misunderstandings about both boys’ characters, but they could get along if they put their minds into it. Or be civil, at least, even if sometimes they looked like they wanted to jump at each other’s throat - but they never did that in front of Maggie, like they had reached an unspoken agreement.

And Alfred had listened when she had tried to tell him he was just misunderstanding Ivan… the thought made a bubble of warmth burst in her chest. Maggie couldn’t comprehend why her words mattered so much to Alfred, but she couldn’t deny it wasn’t unpleasant.

Francis finally got back into the room, his arms completely loaded. He had a transparent bowl filled with water, and several objects were stacked into a second bowl. He placed everything on the drawer and took from the second bowl a bottle with some red liquid and a glass.

“Do you think you could keep down some fruit juice?” he asked as he poured a red liquid into the glass. “There’s a bit of sugar at least… it’s good that you’re drinking, but you need some nutrients too. No wonder you’re so weak…”

That was a good idea. Maggie would have actually tried some fruit juice sometime before, but she hadn’t had anything at home. She wasn’t sure that she could keep it down, but while her stomach was hurting a bit it was better than the cramps from the previous evening. It was worth a try.

Before the girl could say anything, Alfred scooted closer and helped her sit up as Francis came closer with the glass. The man hesitated a moment before letting go of it, but Maggie’s hold was stable enough.

Under the careful scrutiny of her self-appointed caretakers, Maggie brought the glass to her lips and took a careful sip. The juice was heavenly fresh and soothing against her parched throat, and it settled in her stomach without causing anything more than an unpleasant twinge. With much relief from Alfred and Francis, Maggie drank the entire glass in slow sips and when Francis handed her a tablet of Tylenol she didn’t refuse it. Maybe her stomach was getting better…

Ten minutes later, Maggie was ready to take everything back. She couldn’t fathom how she could have thought she would be able to stomach a whole glass of juice.

For the umpteenth time, the girl was kneeling in front of the toilet, excruciating cramps gripping her stomach as it emptied its content, with both Francis and Alfred crouched next to her. Francis was holding her hair back from her face, running his fingers through her scalp, while Alfred’s hands were gently rubbing her back.

Both of them were talking - Francis in French, Alfred in English - but Maggie couldn’t make out their words. The only thing she was able to discern was that they were meant to sound soothing, but an edge of apprehension could be heard in their voices, especially Alfred’s.

When Maggie had finally stopped dry-heaving and the pain in her stomach had receded to a dull ache, Francis gently helped her sit against the wall. A moment later, a damp washcloth was used to clean her face.

The girl didn’t turn down the help. She wanted to say something about how there was no need to worry, but she couldn’t form a sensate sentence, the only sounds that seeped through her lips were a litany of “Sorry… I didn’t mean to, I’m so, so sorry…”

A pair cool hands cupped her chin, and Maggie found herself looking at Francis, who was hovering over her.

His lips were moving… Maggie needed some time to realize that this meant he was talking. Everything felt oddly detached, Francis’s words sounded like they were coming from far away, muffled by a ringing sound. Maggie had to focus hard to understand what he was saying.

 _“Marguerite? Marguerite, ma chérie, there is absolutely_ _nothing you have to apologize for, it’s all right. Comment te sens-tu?”_ **(How are you feeling?)**

Before Maggie’s sluggish brain could come up with an answer, a glass filled with water appeared in front of her face, held by a tanned hand.

Alfred.

The boy was crouched at Francis’s side, and his lips were moving as well, but the words that came from them were nothing but indistinct sounds, completely swallowed by the ringing.

The glass, however, let Maggie understand that Alfred was expecting her to drink. Automatically, she grabbed it with trembling hands and took it to her lips. She took a sip and rinsed her mouth from the foul taste of vomit, but it didn’t seem to help much.

The margins of her vision were tinged with grey, and both Alfred and Francis looked more and more concerned.

Francis laid a hand on her cheek, focusing the girl’s attention on him. Again, his lips were moving, but Maggie couldn’t hear anything past the roar in her own ears, and black dots were dancing in her line of vision.

“I’m fine.” She muttered anyway as she tried to stand, propping herself up against the wall.

The effort left her head spinning, her limbs felt too weak to support her body and the floor seemed to tilt… Maggie’s vision was completely drowned in black, she only vaguely felt herself falling down.

Next thing she knew, she was half-sitting, awkwardly leaning against a broad and muscular chest - Alfred’s. The boy was calling her name in a panicked voice, and so was Francis, whose hands seemed to be cupping her face.

Realizing that she must have passed out, Maggie pried her eyes open. She had to blink a few times before her vision focused, revealing Francis leaning over her. His forehead was knitted with worry, and his lips tightened into a thin line.

 _“Marguerite! Are you with us?”_ he asked as soon as he realized she was awake, his features relaxing a bit.

“Maggie! How are you feeling?” echoed immediately Alfred, sounding frantic.

“I-I think I’m better now,” the girl answered.

A twinge of embarrassment for fainting against Alfred for a second time stabbed her stomach, but she was too tired and dazed to do more than acknowledge it. Her voice sounded weak and scratchy, but Maggie guessed that she wasn’t properly lying - at least, she didn’t think she was about to pass out again. That was an improvement, wasn’t it?

Alfred scoffed, and Francis didn’t look quite convinced.

“ _Ma chérie, you look so pale…”_ he said, gently running a hand on her forehead and through her bangs.

“Shouldn’t we take her to the bed?” asked Alfred, shifting a bit to adjust her weight.

Maggie realized that he was completely supporting her, but her body felt like lead, refusing to answer her commands to sit on her own.

She didn’t have to. At Francis’s nod, Alfred rose to his feet, cradling the girl to his chest.

For once, Maggie didn’t protest. She was quite sure that she wouldn’t be able to stand, let alone walk back to the bedroom.

“Thank you,” she whispered instead with a weak smile as Alfred gently lowered her down on the mattress.

The boy’s tight features softened.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said sweetly as he tucked in her blankets.

The thin ghost of a smile curled his lips. It wasn’t one of his usual, bright ones, and the boy’s face still looked quite pale and tense, but it was a bit better than a few moments earlier. Could it be that such a tiny action made such a huge difference? Accepting his attention instead of trying to turn it down? Maggie didn’t know what to think.

Somebody placed something wet and cold on her forehead - Maggie turned, a bit startled.

“ _Hush, ma chérie. It’s all right,_ ” said Francis’s voice.

The weight over Maggie lessened as some blankets were removed from the pile. With a whimper, she tried to extend an arm in a weak attempt to get them back, but Alfred pinned it down to the mattress.

“No, your fever is too high, you can’t have too many blankets.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Maggie knew those words to be true, but that didn’t make her feel any warmer. The girl curled up on herself, trying to retain some heat.

“Francis, are you really sure…”

“Yes. The fever is far too high, letting her keep the blankets wouldn’t help, she needs to cool off. _Hush now, ma chérie. I know you feel cold, but you are actually burning up,_ ” whispered Francis, running a hand through her hair.

His soothing words were the last thing Maggie remembered clearly.

She must have fallen asleep, or maybe she was floating somewhere between sleep and wake, barely aware of her surroundings.

The sound of Alfred’s and Francis’s voices was a constant presence at the margins of Maggie’s hearing as they talked somewhere far away - sometimes to each other, other times the words seemed to be directed to her, but she couldn’t make sense of it. She could recognize the sweet, melodic sound of French, however.

At one point, Maggie became aware of somebody singing softly in French.

“Mama?” she muttered, unable to understand what was happening.

Her mother had to work, she wouldn’t be with her for so long, no matter how sick Maggie might be… But the voice was deep and rich, with a masculine timbre, and the hands that went to stroke her face too big and gentle.

“ _Oh, je suis désolée, Francis_.”

The man never stopped singing. Or maybe she had fallen asleep, and Francis’s voice kept blending with her mother’s in her feverish dreams, the tender touch of his fingers being replaced by the woman’s uncertain hands. Or maybe that was Alfred.

Sometime later - she wasn’t sure of how much later, but she felt like a lot of time had passed - Maggie was brought back to consciousness by the sound of two voices, and after a few moments she realized she could make out their words.

“…because that wouldn’t attract questions, surely,” was saying a voice with a strong British accent.

_Arthur?_

In spite of the low volume, there was no hiding the annoyed sarcasm.

“I know, but can’t you see?” answered Francis. He was talking quietly, too, but it was like he was straining himself to do so, and there was a hint of agitation in his voice. “Her fever is so high! She can’t even stand, and she hasn’t been able to keep down anything in three days… We should take her to the hospital!”

“Do you really think I don’t know that?” Arthur snapped, his voice raising a little. “I married and EMT! I know a bit about those things. But this isn’t my point. First of all, you told me yourself that she was strongly against going to the hospital.  And before you say something, _I know_ she could have said that just because she didn’t want to make you worry, but what if she has other reasons, too? What if they simply don’t have enough money for a hospital trip? Her step-father not having a good health insurance doesn’t seem too far-fetched. Coming from Canada, they were used to public healthcare, her step-father wouldn’t be the first nor the last person to make a mess with the insurance.”

“But that’s not a problem at all! I could…”

“I _know_ you could pay for it, Francis. And so could I. But this isn’t the main issue! Did you listen to _anything_ I told you before? Let alone the fact that from what you told me that man is an oddly stubborn arse, so I don’t honestly think he would accept your money - nothing you and Alfred did makes any sense!  What would you even say once we get to the hospital? You got into her house while her step-father was away, he could press charges against you! And _don’t_ look at me like that. I could understand something like this from Alfred, but seriously? You’re an adult man, I would expect something more rational from you!”

“But-”

“There’s no ‘but’, you moronic frog. Her step-father could see this as kidnapping an underage girl! Let’s try to look at this rationally: that’s a bad fever, but it’s not _so_ bad. Her breathing _is_ a bit strained, but not too much. And while she has been throwing up, it’s not constant and she can keep down water. Maybe she doesn’t even truly _need_ a hospital. And as I’ve said, it would only complicate things. With the state of the social services here, she won’t be taken away from her step-father as long as she keeps defending him. And you know she will. I know that you want the best for Maggie, but this isn’t the best.”

“But he left her alone! He left her alone while she was this sick… I cannot just stay here and let this slide! And do you really think a court would? Maybe…”

“I already _told_ you, Francis. I had Alistair dig a bit - you may think that Steve Morgans is a brute idiot, and maybe he is, but that man who got him into his new job position - he is not. He got him out of troubles before with some questionable methods, if you think that he wouldn’t do the same this time you’re a bloody fool.”

That was news to Maggie. Joshua was a lawyer, she knew as much, but not that Steve had ever had legal troubles. It must have been before marrying Chloé, anyway. A lifetime ago, now he was a better person. Maggie shouldn’t concern herself with that, and her brain still felt enveloped in wool while her body was uncomfortably sore… the girl only wanted to slip back into unconsciousness.

A sharp intake of breath, however, alerted her that Francis was about to talk again, and the weight of his words finally sank into her mind. She couldn’t let it go on. In spite of her lids feeling like lead, the girl forced herself to pry her eyes open.

“Francis? Arthur?”

Her voice sounded weak and scratchy, barely above a whisper, but the two men immediately stopped talking and focused their attention on her.

“Hey, poppet,” Arthur murmured as his hand came to rest on Maggie’s forehead, sweeping away her bangs. “Thank God you’re awake. How are you feeling?”

Maggie blinked a few times, trying to bring her surroundings into focus. The bedroom was engulfed in semi-darkness, the only source of light a faint lamp on the drawer. Arthur was sitting on a chair next to the bed, leaning over her, and Francis was right next to him, his face pale and drawn with concern.

Letting her eyes sweep over the room, Maggie finally spotted Alfred, who was curled up at the end of the bed, looking deeply asleep.

“What time is it?” she asked, ignoring Arthur’s question.

“Around eleven. You slept for a while.”

The man’s voice was oddly kind. Not that Arthur was usually rude, but his manners tended to be a bit rough. Not to mention it was quite late…

“Oh… I’m really sorry.” Maggie whispered, her stomach clenching at the realization that concern was the most likely cause of Arthur’s unusual behaviour.

“There’s nothing you need to be sorry about, _ma chérie,_ ” retorted Francis, bending over her. “How are you feeling?”

This time, Maggie couldn’t ignore the question. She needed to think a bit before answering, taking stock of everything that was ailing her. As she had vaguely registered while still asleep, her whole body was engulfed by an uncomfortable, throbbing pain, her throat felt raw and dry and her stomach unpleasantly coiled, but, more importantly, she was freezing. She was aware that it must have been the fever, she was probably burning up, but the knowledge didn’t stop her from feeling the cold seeping into her bones.

“I’m thirsty.” She said in the end, opting to address the most easily solvable problem.

Francis hurried to take a glass of water as Arthur lifted her just enough so she wouldn’t choke. Maggie found herself being grateful for the help: her limbs felt like jelly, and the room was tilting slightly, she didn’t think she could have gotten up on her own.

When Francis brought the glass to her lips, Maggie greedily swallowed a sip of water. The cold liquid felt soothing against her raw throat, and it seemed to settle in her stomach without upsetting it. Nevertheless, the girl forced herself to stop drinking after a few sips. She certainly didn’t want to repeat the previous experience.

Francis and Arthur seemed to hold the same opinion, as they didn’t try to force her to drink some more.

“Do you need something else?” Arthur asked instead, always with that unusually soft voice.

“May I have a blanket?”

She shouldn’t have asked that, Maggie knew it. But it was just so cold… the girl couldn’t control the light shivers that were wreaking her body. Arthur and Francis exchanged a glance, their expressions darkening.

“Please?”

Francis exhaled tiredly, running a hand through his hair.

“All right, _ma chérie_. But only one.”

Maggie nodded, flashing the man the best smile she could muster. A thin blanket wasn’t going to solve anything, but it would be better than nothing.

“And now that you’re awake, we’re checking again that fever,” Arthur added sternly.

Maggie barely managed to restrain herself from telling him to relax, the wrinkles on Arthur’s forehead were so deep that they looked carved, like they were there to stay… and that would be a pity.

Before Maggie could elaborate on her strange thought, Arthur placed the thermometer in her mouth.

In the meantime, Francis was trying to extract a thin blanket at the end of the bed from under Alfred. In spite of his effort, the boy groaned and dragged himself to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes.

“What… oh, Maggie!”

His expression softened when he glimpsed the girl, but it darkened again as his eyes swept over her.

“You… you don’t look better. You’re so pale…”

With the thermometer in her mouth, Maggie could only offer the boy a small smile that probably wasn’t particularly reassuring. Alfred scooted closer, his eyes clouded and his features tense.

Nobody seemed to be intentioned to speak again as they waited for the verdict of the thermometer. Francis and Arthur were still sentinels sitting rigidly in their seats, while Alfred was keeping himself occupied with tucking the new blanket around Maggie. The way his hands were trembling slightly made a painful lump almost close off the girl’s throat.

Everybody was started into motion by the beeping of the thermometer, converging towards Alfred, who snatched it, the concentration etched in his features immediately warping into horror.

“104.54?!”

Francis jerked to his feet.

“That’s it. I’m calling an ambulance!”

“No!” Maggie and Arthur protested simultaneously.

Maggie tried bracing herself on her elbows to sit up, but the world seemed to tilt. Arthur’s hands on her shoulders pushed her down.

Without having to be told, Alfred grabbed a cloth from the bowl and almost dropped it on Maggie’s forehead, forgetting to wring it first.

The icy drops trickling down Maggie’s temples made her shiver, but she ignored them as she did with the unpleasantly cool hand Arthur laid on her neck. All her attention was focused on a more pressing matter.

 _“S’il te plait,”_ she murmured, reaching out to grab Francis’s sleeve. _“S’il te plait, no hospital. I’ve already had such a fever, I promise, I’ll be fine, nobody ever brought me to the hospital…”_

Francis’s features didn’t relax as he froze, but after a moment he dropped into the armchair with a groan.

“What did she say?” Arthur asked urgently.

Maggie and Francis translated simultaneously.

A whimper seeped through Alfred’s lips as his father straightened up, the creases on his forehead deepening.

“That’s a bad fever, but she’s still breathing mostly fine, and she kept down some water. I wish we could check with Yao or Iryna, but they’re working overnight today… I think we _could_ wait until tomorrow morning, as long as we manage to lower the fever.”

Alfred quickly took back the cloth and dropped it in the water before bringing it back to Maggie’s forehead. The slight trembling of his fingers was a knife twisting inside the girl’s chest. Even worse, the boy’s features were pale and tight, completely devoid of their characteristic vitality, making Alfred look like a scared child who was barely restraining himself from bursting into tears.

Arthur wasn’t faring much better, sitting with his back painfully straight, his features crossed and his lips tightened into a thin line.

The worst one, however, was Francis. The man was flopped against the armchair, his face colourless and wrinkled in concern. Heavy bags adorned the skin under his dull eyes, and his usually perfect hair was a mess, with several strands escaping the tail to dangle around his face.

Maggie was suddenly hit by the gut-wrenching realization that all that was _her fault._ If only she hadn’t made them worry… The girl was suddenly overwhelmed by an intense urge to burst into tears.

“I’m sorry!” she blurted out, “I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I…”

Alfred froze, his hands hovering over the girl’s forehead.

“Maggie, don’t…”

“What’s wrong, _ma chérie?”_ Francis interrupted him, raising from the armchair to run his fingers through Maggie’s hair. “What’s troubling you so much?”

“I didn’t mean to make you worry,” Maggie confessed in a half-sob, “I truly didn’t. You’re all so tired and instead of sleeping you’re here with me and you don’t need to, you really truly don’t, I mean I _am_ thankful for this but you don’t need to, really, I didn’t want you to worry…”

Her voice drifted off. Maggie wasn’t even sure of what she had just said, in her rush to apologize she hadn’t thought about the _words_. They seemed like a secondary issue, at that point.

The hand on Maggie’s hair stilled as Francis and Alfred gasped in unison.

“Marguerite-”

Francis was cut off by a soft swear from Arthur.

“Maggie, now listen carefully,” the man stated immediately after, bending over the girl. “There’s nothing you have to worry or feel guilty about. Absolutely _nothing_ , do you hear me? You’re ill. It happens and it’s not your fault in the slightest. However, and I don’t want to hear a single complaint about this, now you need somebody taking care of you. Nobody forced us to do it - every single one of us is here because we c _are_ about you, so we want to help you. There’s nothing more it. And of course we’re concerned - just like you were concerned when Alfred was sick. I know that this might be hard to accept. Believe me, I do. But you’ve nothing to feel guilty about.”

Arthur’s voice was stern to the point that it could be nothing but the truth, and there wasn’t a single glint of falsity in the green eyes that were looking straight into Maggie’s ones. The girl’s head was spinning with the immensity of his words, but their sincerity was only making everything worse.

“But you shouldn’t go to any trouble on my account… I… I don’t…”

A deep sigh escaped Francis’s lips.

“Marguerite! Why won’t you believe us? You’re not inconveniencing or bothering anybody! And you are in no condition to stay alone. You shouldn’t be alone right now! Can’t you see this? You have such a bad fever, _ma chérie_ …”

“Yeah!” Alfred intervened, his voice trembling but his eyes set in determination. “And honestly, Maggie, your step-dad should fucking go to jail for this! He could be denounced, and he should- I- he’s such a fucking ass for this, there’s not. A. Single. Fucking. Justification. For him-”

“Alfred!” Arthur and Francis interrupted the boy simultaneously.

“But you know I’m right!” the boy protested, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he straightened up to glare at the two adults.

“Alfred, let’s have a word outside,” Arthur said after a moment of silence with a tired shake of his head, his muscles tightening as he prepared to rise from the chair.

Leaving the conversation to him would be so easy, and Maggie was so exhausted, her head slow and throbbing… she only wanted to get back to sleep. However, she was also aware that whatever Arthur would say to Alfred could only temporarily solve the problem… Maggie was the only one who could make everybody truly understand.

“No,” she said, somehow managing to sound firm in spite of her feeble voice. “It’s fine. Al, I understand why you’re angry.” And she truly did. She would’ve been furious, too, at the thought of the boy being left alone while he was sick. But her situation was completely different. “But Al, Steve needs to work. He just started a new job, he can’t just take some days off because I have a cold… he would risk being fired. Especially now that I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

“But Maggie, this is bullshit! He had to work, and? Dad has to work sometimes too, but he still…”

Maggie sighed. Her head was throbbing so much… Why couldn’t Alfred just leave that alone?

“It’s not the same for everybody, Al. Steve can’t miss work, really. Mama didn’t either, you know? She would mostly leave me home alone when I was sick because she couldn’t afford to miss work. And look, I’m still here, aren’t I? So it’s fine…”

A heavy silence fell after those words. Maggie was almost convinced that the issue had finally been cleared when Francis took a deep breath.

“Marguerite…”

His hand grabbed Maggie’s one, the hold firm and pleasant, but the girl couldn’t ignore the regretful note in his voice.

“It’s fine, really,” she said, struggling to let her brain string words together. “It really is. Don’t you see? Mama would’ve stayed with me if I had needed it, but she didn’t. So it means that it wasn’t truly needed. And I can’t ask anything more from Steve, he… he’s already taking care of me when he shouldn’t have to. I mean, he… he married Mama, I was just… collateral. But now he’s stuck with me, and there’s nothing I can’t ask him more than what he’s already doing. Don’t you see? This is already… more than he should. And… thank you so much for taking care of me. Seriously, I don’t know how to thank you, I’m so grateful, but you shouldn’t have done this. I’m sorry I made you waste so much time. And I’m sorry I made you worry, too, I really didn’t mean to.”

That was it. Maggie had said everything that needed to be said, she could finally surrender to the aches that plagued her entire body and stop fighting against her heavy lids…

Alfred’s hand violently plunged into the pillow, jerking Maggie’s back to reality along with Arthur’s stern voice.

“Alfred!”

The boy was trembling, his pupils almost blown as they focused on Maggie’s face.

“How… how can you say something like this?!” he sputtered, “That’s… that’s not true, that’s so… so twisted! I mean, your step-dad should still take care of you, he’s an adult and it’s not like he didn’t know about you when he married your Mom! But… Your Mom too! How could she… parents are supposed to take care of you!”

Alfred’s voice had progressively raised in volume during his distraught speech, leaving him almost yelling in the end.

“Alfred, that’s enough!”

Arthur stood from his chair and bent over his son, placing a hand on his shoulder. The boy took a deep breath, raising his eyes, but the anger never washed away from his features.

Maggie had to say something, she had to calm him down… but how? Her brain was slow, filled with wool, and her eyes so heavy…

A strangled gasp that sounded suspiciously close to a sob claimed the girl’s attention as Francis’s fingers tightened over hers. The man’s eyes were wide and filled with anguish.

“Oh, Marguerite,” he sighed, his voice thick, “Is this… is this what happened? Did your mother neglect you so much as well?”

Maggie shook her head, taken aback.

“She didn’t neglect me,” she stated dumbly, trying and failing to understand how Francis could have gotten to that conclusion. “She had to work. And her life, too, she was still very young… she just couldn’t spend so much time with me.”

Why couldn’t they understand?

Arthur sighed as he swept his brow with a hand, straightening up.

“Oh, bloody Hell…” He stopped Alfred with a sharp wave of his hand. “All right. So, you’re saying that since your mother was so young not taking care of you was normal. Do you know how old I was when Alfred was born? I was twenty-two. And Amelia was twenty-one. Do you think that we shouldn’t have taken care of Alfred?”

“Oh…”

Maggie’s stomach turned as she finally understood what had upset Alfred so much.

“Oh, no, of course not! That’s… completely different…”

She wanted to elaborate - she knew that he had to - but her brain felt enveloped by a woollen cocoon, she couldn’t articulate her thoughts.

“Marguerite, I don’t see any difference here.” Francis stated with such a tenderness that the girl almost felt like crying.

“But it’s… _completely_ different,” she muttered, fighting to stay awake. “It’s just… Alfred is different. I… I’ve never been… _needed_. Nor wanted. Mama… only wanted to have fun, the last thing she wanted was to have a child. Yet… yet she kept me. And… that’s _enough_. She… she really didn’t have to. It’s not like she wanted me. She could have given me up for adoption, or aborted, but… but she didn’t. And… and that’s why there is nothing else I could have asked her. She didn’t owe me anything. And Steve… Steve even less. I’m not even his real daughter, but that’s not the point. The point is that… nobody owes me anything because I am unneeded.”

Her words were met by a chilling silence.

Maggie vaguely realized that she had said a lot more than she should have or had actually wanted to say, but it didn’t seem very important at that moment, when all her strength and concentration were used for not letting her eyelids slide closed.

The silence was finally broken by a strangled whimper that came from Alfred’s throat, stirring everybody from their paralysis.

“Oh, Marguerite…” whispered Francis, tightening the hold on her hand almost painfully.

He looked horrified - no, horrified wasn’t the right word for the emotion Maggie could read in his widened eyes and ashen face. It was almost… heartbroken?

The same could be said for Alfred and Arthur, even though the boy looked more upset than his father, whose face had tightened so much he almost seemed to be in pain.

Anyway, it wasn’t the reaction Maggie had hoped for. She had only wanted them to _understand_ …

“Sorry…” she muttered, desperately struggling to keep her already half-lidded eyes open, “I’d really better stop talking, wouldn’t I? I’m just making everything worse…”

“Oh, no, _ma chérie_. Of course not.” Francis answered immediately, his voice so tender and soothing it felt almost painful. His free hand ran to Maggie’s forehead, smoothing back her bangs. “You can talk as much as you want, I promise. You don’t have to hold back with us… it’s really important that you say these things.”

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Maggie was aware that she should have denied Francis’s statement, or at least answered to it, but her weary body was quickly losing the battle against sleep.

“Sorry… I’m just so tired…”

She felt Alfred shift on the mattress, his body tensing, but Arthur shook his head.

“Of course, poppet, you can sleep now, you really need to rest,” he said soothingly, “We’ll talk about this when you are awake enough to have a proper conversation.”

Finally, as if allowed by those words, Maggie let her body and mid succumb to the exhaustion and the fever. The last thing she was aware of was three different hands keeping a hold on her body, as if not to let her drift too far - Alfred’s fixing the wet towel and then threading through her hair, Francis’s delicate fingers drawing circles on her palm and Arthur’s hand resting on her cheek - then a feverish darkness reclaimed her mind, but Maggie had never felt so safe.

* * *

When Maggie woke up the following morning, it was to the unexpected ceiling of Francis’s house. The girl stared at it for a moment, blinking, then the events of the previous evening came back in a rush.

Maggie jerked up, gasping. A wave of dizziness followed her movement - but it wasn’t nearly as bad as the previous day, and the girl could recognize it as more like weakness caused by the prolonged lack of food than illness.

Her eyes scanned the room, immediately falling on the three deeply asleep figures that surrounded her.

Alfred was on the bed, lying on his side to face her, and Arthur’s sweater had been wrapped around his shoulders. Said man was sleeping on a chair at the right side of the bed, leaning against the wall, and Francis was flopped in the armchair next to him. All of them looked completely spent, their pale faces marked by deep bags and their hair unkempt.

A wave of guilt assaulted Maggie. As soon as Francis cracked an eye open, a wave of apologies tore through her lips, but the man was having none of it. He was so relieved to see her awake and coherent that his exclamation startled both Alfred and Arthur awake.

From that moment on, Maggie didn’t have the physical time to apologize. Arthur managed to keep Francis and Alfred’s excitement at bay long enough to check her fever, but as soon as it turned out to be much better than the previous day, the girl found herself being hugged by Alfred, so overjoyed to see she was recovering that he needed to express it physically. Arthur’s rebukes did nothing to stop him, and it was a while before everything settled enough for Maggie to try to apologize. Even then, nobody let her do it.

Maggie was more and more confused.

She only had snippets of the previous night, but from those fragmented memories and the men’s reactions she was sure she had caused them a lot of concern. Not to mention the fact Arthur and Alfred hadn’t even gotten back to their home to sleep. The girl was certain she had caused all of them a lot of troubles, but everybody kept insisting she hadn’t, as if taking care of her when she was sick were something completely natural.

Even worse, any time Maggie tried to apologize she could see the faces around her darkening slightly. She eventually stopped, deciding that she needed a clearer recollection of the previous evening before making any other move.

Francis, Arthur and Alfred spend the entire day at her side, and after the initial wave of concern faded a bit Maggie had to admit that it was pleasant, almost domestic. It was probably an egoistic thought on her part, but what if there was nothing bad in accepting their attention? She wasn’t forcing them, after all…

That way of thinking was the dangerous start of a slippery rope, but Maggie was more and more confused, and something told her that insisting wouldn’t have been wise. She remembered an argument about the fact that Steve should have taken a better care of her, but now how it had ended. Seeing how nobody mentioned it, letting it go was probably wiser. Maybe Maggie had convinced them, even if she doubted it.

In spite of Maggie insisting that she was feeling a lot better and the thermometer confirming it, Francis insisted for her to spend the entire day in bed. Maggie was used to doing that when she was sick, but she certainly wasn’t used to having Alfred lying next to her as they watched a movie, his arm around her shoulders _(“Hey, I was just sick, so for a bit I’m immunized! I’m not going to catch anything! Isn’t it how it works?”)_ , and even less to Francis and Arthur constantly peeking into the bedroom to check her fever, ask if she felt like eating something else or even stopping with her and Alfred to chat.

It was clear that none of them was used to people being ill, not even her mother had ever been so attentive… Guilt washed over Maggie anytime the realization of how much she was bothering such kind people hit her, but none of them showed the slightest sign of annoyance. And for how horrible it made her feel, Maggie couldn’t deny that the situation _was_ pleasant.

It wasn’t until the following afternoon that the atmosphere started tensing again.

“I should really go home now,” Maggie declared meekly, trying to hide from her features the panic rising in her chest at the thought of Steve not finding her home.

Everybody around her froze.

“I mean, Steve is coming back soon,” she elaborated, “And I don’t want him to see me out of home… You were incredibly kind in taking care of me, but uhm… Steve jumps to conclusions. A lot. This… this could turn real ugly. For you, I mean.”

Maggie was staring at Francis, who had already witnessed Steve’s temper. The man held her gaze.

“Marguerite, I know this. But… Do you realize how sick you were? He should have never left you home alone, sweetheart. You’re a child. And…”

“I think we already talked about it.” Maggie interrupted him, a lump in her throat. She _still_ couldn’t recall how the conversation had ended, and it wasn’t good… But clearly, she hadn’t convinced them. “I… I am so, so grateful for what you did for me. I truly am.” Her eyes swept over the men surrounding her, trying to convey her sincerity. “However, I can’t blame Steve for this. Can’t you see? He _had_ to work. And I’m fine. I would’ve been fine anyway. I don’t want to cause him - or _you_ \- any trouble, but…”

Maggie’s voice drifted off. She couldn’t bring herself to utter those words - but everybody knew what she meant. If somebody had to take any legal action, she would have to defend Steve. In spite of the pain it brought her, she hoped that they would understand.

“Maggie…” Alfred whispered, his eyes so full of empathy and the regret seeping through his voice so raw that the girl’s chest tightened - but Arthur stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

Francis was the one who talked in the end.

“Of course,” he said with a sad smile, “We won’t do anything you don’t want us to do. But you have to remember this: you _have_ people caring for you. You _deserve_ that. And the day you’ll need anything, no matter how small or big, we’ll be here for you. You have to remember this, Marguerite.”

Maggie could only numbly, not knowing how else to answer. Francis, Arthur and Alfred looked oddly sombre, their features guarded, but the sincerity was undeniable. Maggie’s chest was tight, but it wasn’t unpleasant. When the girl finally found herself in her own cold room, waiting for Steve to come back, everything felt almost empty. She missed the smiles, the kind words and the mere company.

For the first time, Maggie took conscience of how much her life had changed since she had moved - and the scariest thing was that, for how much she knew that she didn’t deserve that, she wasn’t sure that she would be able to go back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 103.89 °F = 39.9 °C  
> 104.54 °F = 40.3 °C
> 
> Okay people don’t kill me for what I did with Maggie’s illness. From what I read in other fics and info posts, with that fever combined to the fact that she was throwing up I think that she would have been brought to the hospital in America - but the vomiting wasn’t excessive, she could keep down a bit of water, and while quite high the fever wasn’t truly dangerous yet. In Italy, you’d probably even get scolded for going to the ER for something like that haha. I’m not a doctor, but I don’t think that her eventually recovering on her own is too far-fetched. I mean, I’ve had that kind of fevers and once I even took nothing for it, and it turned out fine after a couple of days. If anything, I might have exaggerated a bit Maggie’s weakness, but please keep in mind that she’s already a bit underweight so not eating for so long would have quite a big impact on her, besides she’s also slightly anaemic, so she’s weaker than she should be.
> 
> I keep having Francis throw random words in French because I think he would do that - he doesn’t seem like someone who would just drop his native language. I know that this isn’t how bilingual people normally speak, but it’s Francis.
> 
> This chapter felt a bit lacklustre and disjointed, maybe also due to the fact that I translated part of it as I wrote it a year ago (I would write it on a notebook during my internship, then translate it on my laptop and go on from there once home) but I didn’t know how to fix it. I hope it’s not too bad!
> 
> I should also probably mention that I’ve been having some health issues that make typing at the computer a bit hard at times, so updates might be slow depending on how it develops. I’ll do my best.  
> Thank you for reading, and if you liked this chapter or have anything to say reviews are always warmly accepted!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so, so sorry for the wait. This chapter isn’t even too long, but real life sadly got in the way. Thank you so much for the support, though! Even if I’m late, your kind words really helped my motivation :) I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Warnings: English isn’t my first language. The previous chapters had been written in Italian and translated later while this was written directly in English, but I did such a heavy editing on the other ones that I don’t know if you’ll truly see a difference.

In the days following her illness, Maggie found herself facing an awful realization: she had gone too far. In her naïve intent to enjoy a bit of something she shouldn’t have, she had inched closer and closer to the fire until it had burned her.

Even worse, she wasn’t the only one involved. Maggie didn’t know how she had managed to create such a good fake personality, but she had made people - _real people_ \- grow to genuinely care for a ghost that didn’t exist. In her egoism, Maggie had hurt more people she could have ever imagined.

Then there was Steve. Still engrossed in his story with Claudia, the man didn’t seem to realize that Maggie could barely meet his eyes, he didn’t see all the lies that hung between them, weighting so heavily on Maggie’s chest that sometimes she could barely breathe.

 _Why_ had she ever deluded herself that lying to him was justified? It was only because she was afraid of the punishment, of the pain, but Maggie couldn’t hide forever from the truth: Steve didn’t leave her freedom because she didn’t deserve it.

_Coward, coward, coward._

Her mother would have been so ashamed…

To make matters worse, Maggie hadn’t only lied to Steve, she had also put him in danger. The girl couldn’t forget Francis’s words, the outrage in his voice. Sometimes Maggie would wake up in the dead of the night, her heart hammering in her chest and perspiration covering her face, her mind still lingering on the afterimages of a dream made of Francis’s face, a confused crowd of screaming policemen and a tall, faceless judge towering over her.

If somebody snapped and called the police or the social services, Maggie would have to cover Steve, because the man had no fault. She would have to paint Francis as a liar, to say that Steve had entrusted her in his care. She would have to ruin _everything_.

The mere thought made bile rise to the back of her throat.

There was only one solution, Maggie realized after another sleepless night, staring at the ceiling without seeing it: she had to cut her ties with everybody. The thought weighted on her chest like a stone, but Maggie knew that there wasn’t any alternative.

Of course, she would probably hurt everybody - Alfred and Francis first - but that moment would have to come anyway. A momentary snap would be better than slowly corroding everybody with her poison like was inevitably going to happen, sooner or later.

Maggie’s resolution was shattered only a couple of hours later, in front of Alfred’s bright, lively eyes. The boy’s wide smile as he greeted her wasn’t unusual, but there was something in his high-strung posture and the way he was almost trembling with excitement that spoke about anticipation.

“What are you doing on Thanksgiving?” the boy asked immediately, barely leaving Maggie enough time to hang her coat.

The question made her freeze on the spot.

“Thanksgiving?”

Maggie needed a moment to realize Alfred was talking about _American_ Thanksgiving, not Canadian Thanksgiving, which had happened during the previous month and passed under silence.

“It’s on Thursday, and we are home from school till Monday,” rectified Alfred.

“Oh… oh, yes, of course, I remember now!” The fact that Thanksgiving Day was approaching and was a big thing in the US had completely slipped out of Maggie’s mind, but the answer spilt easily from her lips now that she was connecting the dots. “Oh, that’s why! Steve didn’t tell me anything, but I heard him talking on the phone and I think a colleague of his has a cottage somewhere… they wanted to go there for a couple of days, I think. I’ll be home.”

Which was a relief, in Maggie’s book. Two years prior, the girl had had to follow Steve on a lunch with his co-workers’ families on Canadian Thanksgiving, and it had been anything but a pleasant experience. Not only Maggie hadn’t known any of the other children and she had been too shy to approach them, Joshua’s dark eyes seemingly following her every move as his lips curled into a predatory grin had kept the girl on the edge for the entire evening. Fortunately, she wouldn’t have to repeat the experience.

It was only a moment later that Maggie realized what she had just said, her heart plummeting in her chest. She shouldn’t give Alfred more reasons to think Steve was neglecting her… the boy, however, had never stopped smiling, his eyes glimmering being the glasses.

“That’s great!” As soon as the words left his mouth Alfred’s eyes widened in realization, a light blush blossoming on his cheeks as he awkwardly tried to correct his blunder. “Err… Uhm, I mean, I’m sorry you’ll be left home alone, I really am, but you see…”

The words were completely in contrast with the boy’s demeanour, he was barely restraining the smile tugging at his lips. The scene conjured in Maggie’s mind the picture of a hyper puppy trying to restrain himself from jumping on his owner’s lap.

“Don’t worry, it’s no problem. I don’t mind being home alone, really, I’m old enough for that,” she reassured him with a slight smile of her own.

Alfred took her words as an invitation to finally express what had been on his mind since the start of the conversation, rattling off the entire sentence in a single breath.

“You should come with us, then! You know, since the holiday is so short, nobody has time to go back to Europe to their relatives, so we all get together at Ludwig and Gilbert’s house and we have lunch and spend the afternoon there, nothing fancy, but we always have a lot of fun, you should really come!”

Alfred stood still after he had finished talking, staring at Maggie with a huge smile plastered on his face.

Maggie’s stomach was coiled in a single ball of dread. Her resolution was pressing against her brain, urging her to find an excuse to turn Alfred down: if she had to detach herself from him, she had better start immediately.

And at the same time… Alfred was so _hyped up_. Maggie couldn’t ignore the expectation shining in his bright eyes. The mere thought of seeing them grow dull because of her felt like a stab.

“That’s… really nice of you,” she said weakly, “And I’d love to, really, but… are you sure the others wouldn’t mind? I mean, it’s… it’s something private between you guys, I’m not… family or something. Besides, I still have to check Steve’s line-up, I can’t have him come back before me.”

It was highly unlikely, she didn’t think Steve would come back anytime before lunch of the following day, yet the mere thought of repeating what had happened in October sent shivers running down Maggie’s back.

Alfred’s smile, however, only widened. By then, he was almost vibrating on his feet.

“Don’t be silly, everybody would be happy if you came!”

Maggie’s stomach knotted painfully. _How_ could she say ‘no’ to that smile? It would only hurt Alfred. She couldn’t physically bear to do it.

And Alfred wasn’t the only one involved, she realized as the boy spotted Tolys and Feliks and almost hopped towards them to report her answer. There were so many people Maggie had let herself grow close to, so many people she could ( _would,_ eventually) hurt… the realization closed off her throat and made the bile rise to from her stomach.

The girl kept mulling over the dilemma for the entire morning, that passed in a flash as she listened to her teachers, smiled at people and answered Alfred’s questions - but she wasn’t completely there, it was almost like watching another person conducting a life that Maggie had always desperately wished for but didn’t deserve. She never had.

The solution came to her at lunchtime, surrounded by everybody’s lively chatter. It was so maddeningly easy that Maggie almost wanted to hit herself for not coming up with it sooner: all she needed to do was to detach herself from other people _gradually_. She had to start finding excuses not to join them, do it less and less until she managed to slither away unseen, a forgotten ghost people would never direct more than a stray thought to.

It would have been easy, if not for one dizzying realization that clawed at Maggie’s chest: _she didn’t want to_. She didn’t deserve that happiness, yet she couldn’t renounce to it now that she had tasted it. Every time she caught a glimpse of Alfred’s bright eyes, she saw Feliks huffing and running his fingers through his hair as Tolys spoke to him, crossed Erika’s soft smile or laid her eyes on Natalya’s frown, the ache in Maggie’s chest grew strong enough to steal away her breath.

She was a coward, she was despicable. But she couldn’t refuse to acknowledge the warmth that blossomed inside her when the news she would join the party was met with satisfaction by everybody who would be involved.

At Francis’s home, that afternoon, the man looked about as enthusiastic as Alfred.

“ _You know, ma chérie, all these years I’ve had to cook for me, Alfred and Arthur, all by myself…”_ he confided her with a dramatic sigh.

Maggie raised her eyes from the rosebuds she had been carefully watering.

“ _Cook?”_

“ _Everybody brings something to eat,_ ” Francis explained as he cut down a dead twig with an elaborate twirl of his hand. “ _It would be quite troublesome for somebody to do all by himself, don’t you think so?”_

_“Oh… yes, of course.”_

It did make sense, now that Maggie thought about it. And while Lovino’s family was taking a day off from work, it didn’t mean they would enjoy spending it cooking for everybody else.

“ _And, ma chérie, would you really let Arthur cook for somebody else?”_

Francis shook his head theatrically and swept back a strand of hair that had fallen from his ponytail.

“ _Believe me, nothing good would come from it. And even if Alfred fades in the background before his father’s cooking, don’t make the mistake to think his tastes are actually any better or more refined.”_

Maggie could vouch for that. Alfred constantly complained about his father’s cooking, but she had seen him devour without as much as a blink food that would have sent dauntless soldiers cry for their mothers.

_“So, for everybody’s sake, I’ve always shouldered the burden of not letting the two of them near anything that remotely looks like a kitchen. And this year, you can help me out!”_

The excitement in Francis’s voice was palpable. The man turned to retrieve the water-can with a twirl.

“ _I’ll be glad to do it,_ ” Maggie said softly, and she couldn’t help but give a soft smile in return.

She liked cooking with Francis, and helping out in some way would make her feel better about intruding.

Which didn’t mean she wasn’t still feeling guilty for how everything had turned out, and the fact she was enjoying the situation made it even worse. But Francis was an adult man, not a teenager… shouldn’t he be able to make his own decisions? Did it mean that, if he decided he liked spending time with Maggie, then it was justified?

Surely not. Surely, she was deceiving him, somehow.

However, Francis wasn’t stupid. He was smarter than her, could he have come to that decision on his own? Unlikely, but not impossible.

Maggie was more and more confused, and nobody seemed to be intentioned to leave her some time to figure things out.

“After school, you are coming to the mall with us,” Feliks declared the following day at lunch.

Maggie almost dropped her plate, catching herself just in time.

“Come again?”

“Two years ago, the mall started setting some discounted prices before the Black Friday,” explained Erika, “They’re not as good, but it’s better than getting caught into the Black Friday’s madness… we wanted to have a look, the other times there was some nice stuff.”

Her face looked emotionless, but at that point, Maggie knew that the barely visible curving of her lips was a genuine smile.

“Oh…” she muttered, unsure of how to answer.

Feliks huffed and rolled his eyes, about to say something, but Erika preceded him.

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, you don’t have to feel forced to do anything… but last year we had fun, it would be nice if you came.”

Maggie couldn’t refuse the offer. Erika looked truly hopeful, and even Natalya had subtly shifted closer to them to hear her answer. She couldn’t even use Steve as an excuse, as she had already mentioned that he wouldn’t be home that afternoon.

“That’s very nice of you,” Maggie settled for saying, “And I’d love to come, but I don’t have much money…”

“But that’s not a problem!” cut in Feliks, “I mean, it’s not like we are going to buy much… it’s just so that we can have fun! You totally have to come!”

“But only if you want to,” Erika repeated, her forehead creased with concern.

“Oh, of course I want to come, I’d love to!” Maggie was quick to answer, flashing Erika a smile.

The enthusiasm in her voice felt genuine enough to make everybody relax - probably because, if Maggie let herself forget her concerns, it was far from fake. It was the first time she would do something as mundane and normal as going shopping with a group of friends. Of course, Maggie knew that normal people did that. She had heard her classmates discussing about it countless times, but not even in her wildest dreams she would have thought about being invited. If she let go of the worry, she was almost giddy.

The realization of how much she was enjoying something she didn’t deserve made Maggie’s stomach turn, but the girl clenched her fists and banished the thought to a corner of her mind. Nobody around her was stupid, they were bound to notice that there was something wrong if she kept mulling over it.

“Irunya is coming as well, she had the night shift but she said she should have rested enough to come after school,” Natalya said evenly. “She’ll be glad you are coming, she seems to like you.”

Taken aback, Maggie turned to the older girl.

Natalya was looking up, refusing to meet her eyes, but there was a light tension in her posture.

_Was that Natalya’s speech for ‘I’m glad you are coming’?_

Maggie couldn’t be completely sure of that, but… if Natalya hadn’t wanted her to come, she wouldn’t have kept the opinion for herself. And even less would she have said something to encourage Maggie, whether referred to her older sister or not.

“Okay, then,” she said, sounding a lot more confident than she felt.

“That’s it, then!” declared Feliciano, as cheerful as usual. “Just follow Feliks after your last period, but in any case, we’ll see each other outside school.”

Maggie almost frowned. She managed to catch herself just in time, but the question was still there. She had been sure Erika had talked about the girls, so why was Feliciano talking like he was involved as well?

“It’s not actually just us girls,” Erika explained, catching her confusion. “Feli and Feliks come with us because they have a good eye… they see right away which clothes would look good on us.”

“And it’s really fun!” Feliciano added with a light giggle.

Maggie almost forgot to breathe. What looked like a fun afternoon had suddenly taken a much more sinister turn… the girl had never forgotten how Feliks had tried to force her to wear makeup the first time he had seen her, and he often remarked on how she should wear some more tight-fitting clothes or show more skin… Feliciano wouldn’t probably be any better.

Maggie swallowed, her throat feeling dry. She wasn’t quite sure it would turn into a pleasant experience anymore…

Alfred laughed, patting her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, nobody is going to eat you! I mean, Erika, Nat and Iryna have always come back alive, so nothing should be different with you, don’t you think?”

The boy winked.

With the warm, solid weight of his hand on her shoulder, Maggie suddenly felt a lot calmer. Her mind quickly made a stock of her injuries, but nothing stood out aside from the bruises gotten from hockey. Well, she actually had a nasty purple blotch on her right side, gotten after Steve had pushed her against the table, but it could be easily hidden among the others. More importantly, there were no suspicious bruises on her wrists.

The girl mustered a weak smile, not keen on letting anybody catch her uneasiness. She _had_ to enjoy the afternoon out, it was probably going to be one of her last ones…

_‘Always finding excuses to justify your transgressions, aren’t you?’_

The voice in her head sounded suspiciously like Steve, but there, surrounded by the other teens’ solid presences, it turned out to be strangely easy to ignore.

After last period, Maggie walked to the hall with Alfred, Tolys and Feliks, talking lightly all the way. Feliks seemed to be hyped up at the idea of shopping, while Tolys smiled indulgently at his enthusiasm.

The four of them were joined shortly after by the others, and Tolys and Alfred took it as a hint to take their leave.

“See you all tomorrow!” Alfred waved enthusiastically, beaming as usual.

Maggie hadn’t realized her eyes were trailing behind his retreating back until somebody elbowed her lightly in the ribs.

She gasped and whirled around, trying to cover a wince - the touch had been light, but the tip of the elbow had dug into a healing bruise - with a startled expression.

It seemed to work.  Feliks was grinning, a mischievous glint glimmering in his eyes.

“I guess it was a nice view, but we have to go, princess…”

Maggie’s face heated up.

“I wasn’t…!”

“Of course you were looking at Alfred!” chimed in Feliciano, “But don’t worry, we know what to do, just follow our lead!”

Without giving her time to retort, the Feliciano swung an arm around Maggie’s shoulders and started dragging her along, almost bouncing instead of walking like a regular human, like had springs attached to his feet.

The others followed him.

Maggie’s eyes darted desperately through the small group, trying to find somebody to back up her pleas, but Natalya appeared to haven’t heard, and Erika was smiling softly while Feliks started to list all the shops he wanted to visit.

Maggie relaxed slightly.

_I’m so oversensitive… Feliks was just kidding, nobody took his words seriously._

Or they didn’t seem to find any problem with his statement, at least. It was just how people her age joked around, Maggie had heard more than once Alfred tease Tolys about Natalya.

_Why did it bother me so much, then?_

Most likely, it was because she still wasn’t used to the way normal teens behaved. Not because… Maggie’s stomach twisted at the mere thought.

Maggie violently shook her head and looked around, forcing her mind away from Alfred’s (admittedly gorgeous) smile. It was no use tormenting herself on that, the sun was shining over her head, softening the gusts of the cold wind that caressed her face and played with her hair, Feliciano’s arm was warm around her shoulders and the boy was humming something under his breath. It was shaping up to be a good afternoon, it would be ungrateful of Maggie to ruin it by overthinking things.

The mall wasn’t far from the school, about twenty minutes on foot, but it took a bit longer because they were walking without any haste, chatting the entire time.

Maggie realized that it was the first time she went somewhere with the others without Alfred. Sometimes, she found herself turning automatically to catch his eyes or see his reaction to a statement, only to remember the boy wasn’t there. In spite of that, being around Erika, Natalya, Feliks and Feliciano didn’t make her feel uneasy, and the tension slowly left the girl. Even Natalya seemed affected by the pleasant atmosphere, her features less sullen than usual.

As soon as they reached their destination, the teens were greeted by the sight of Iryna waving at them from a spot next to the doors.

The young woman quickly made her way towards them, stumbling slightly on a step, her open coat fluttering behind her. A few heads turned in her wake, Maggie distinctly spotted two boys not much older than them elbowing each other.

The reason was quite obvious: Iryna was not only stunning but also a conspicuous presence. She was tall for a woman, about Alfred’s height, and with a statuesque, feminine body that caught everybody’s eyes, even if Iryna did nothing show it off (but she didn’t hide it, either. It was just… _there._ Maggie was surprised each time by how comfortable and natural Iryna looked in her body, which only added to her beauty). Her likeness with Ivan was remarkable, their round faces had similar features, even though hers were softer, and her nose was smaller but with the same shape as Ivan’s. She had big, round light blue eyes and her head was framed by straight, short light blonde hair with a short side fringe, always adorned with a few small clips and a white headband (like Natalya’s ribbon, a gift from Ivan, Maggie had learnt).

As soon as Iryna reached them, Maggie found herself squeezed against the woman’s generous breasts along with Erika.

“Oh, I’m so glad you came!” Iryna twittered, her accent made stronger by the excitement. “And Erika, I haven’t seen you in such a long time! Are you doing okay? Maggie, you look a bit pale, are you feeling all right? Did you take those supplements I told you about? And how are your bruises? Are they healing fine?”

Maggie found herself nodding along with Erika, slightly overwhelmed by the woman’s fast barrage of questions, for how much she should have been used to it by then.

Her stomach gave a small twist at the thought of lying to Iryna - of course she wasn’t taking any supplement, they were too expensive - but the recollection of how much the woman had fretted when she had explained her absence from hockey practice was enough to calm her down. Iryna had enough to worry about between her younger siblings and Eduard, she shouldn’t have to add Maggie to the mix. Besides, for how much Iryna kept insisting that she was anaemic and should schedule a visit with a doctor, Maggie hadn’t fainted since that time in October, for how weak and light-headed she would often feel after an intense effort. Iryna was just worrying too much, in her job as a nurse she had probably gotten used to seeing seriously ill people and jumped to worst-case scenarios even in her everyday life.

Maggie forced herself to widen her smile, remembering that she had to look livelier in Iryna’s presence. She wasn’t sure she was fooling anybody, but Iryna didn’t press the issue, choosing instead to address her younger sister and the boys.

The small group slowly entered the mall while Feliciano was telling Iryna about the joke one of his classmates had placed on their Art teacher. Iryna’s sharp laughter immediately followed his words. She seemed to about as hyped up as Feliciano and Feliks.

Sometimes, Maggie forgot about how young Iryna was. Maggie mostly saw her in a maternal role, taking care of her younger siblings or Maggie’s hurt teammates, but in truth, she was only twenty-three years old. And now, with her eyes shining and her features softened by the amusement, she looked radiant, maybe even younger than she was. Far too young to have so many responsibility weighting on her shoulders.

In spite of that, Iryna didn’t let herself be dragged down. She still found the strength to smile, she didn’t let the light in her eyes be extinguished.

Looking at her, a weight dropped in Maggie’s stomach as the realization of how _selfish_ she was being hit her. Her life wasn’t nearly as hard as Iryna’s, but she still spent her time crying over herself. Yes, she was disobeying Steve. But she either stopped doing so or stopped wallowing in misery. If Iryna could smile, so could Maggie, instead of worrying everybody else.

Yet, Iryna wasn’t like her. Unlike Maggie, Iryna had done nothing wrong, she _deserved_ that happiness. Maggie didn’t, so she shouldn’t enjoy what she was doing. She had forgotten it far too many times. But maybe… Maggie couldn’t forget Francis’s warm eyes, his gentle smile. Arthur treated her well, too.

 _‘There are people who care for you,’_ Francis had said. For how overwhelming it was, Maggie knew that he did. Like Alfred, and Arthur. And probably, even the people around her. And maybe… Maybe it was all right? Francis and Arthur were adults, the wouldn’t be fooled…

_Excuses. All excuses._

Maggie knew that she was just being selfish, but she couldn’t deny the warmth that had slowly blossomed in her chest since that October. For how much she didn’t deserve it, everything had changed - and she was enjoying it, too.

“There! Let’s go in there!” cried out Feliciano, flailing his arms to point at a window.

Maggie followed his hands until her eyes landed on the windows of a big shop. The mannequins displayed casual clothes, and as they walked closer Maggie noted with relief that the prices seemed to be quite affordable.

The girl looked as her companions spread over the shop, checking the clothes. Erika was looking at some brightly coloured dresses with Feliciano, while Iryna was showing a reluctant Natalya a gown, talking excitedly while her sister kept sulking, but she gave a short nod in answer.

Maggie stood still next to the entrance.

_What am I supposed to, now?_

Checking clothes, maybe? The girl hesitantly inched closer to a display full of baggy sweaters. Did she even need something? Running a hand through the length of one sweater Maggie could feel that the material (something synthetic, most likely) was soft and warm. Maybe she should buy one, was that what normal people did when they went shopping?

“Oh dear, not that, please!” Feliks voice startled h back to awareness.

The boy was standing next to her, his hands on his hips and his head tilted to a side, his fine features contorted in a small frown.

“No more baggy clothes for you!” he declared, holding out a finger. “You’ve got enough of those! Your body totally rocks, you need to show it off a bit more!”

Without giving her time to answer, Feliks clamped his slender fingers around Maggie’s wrist and started dragging her to a different corner of the shop. The girl followed him, too confused to think of anything to say. She didn’t even want to think about the kind of clothes Feliks would want her to wear… and at the same time, she didn’t know of a way to stop the boy without offending him.

Finally, Feliks stopped in front of a full-body mirror and released Maggie, his eyes sweeping critically over her.

Maggie shifted, uneasy. She tried to wrap her arms around her body, but Feliks huffed and shoved them down, dangling at her sides.

“Don’t do that! I’m trying to figure out what kind of clothes would suit you!”

Maggie clasped her hands behind her back, wringing them out of the boy’s sight.

“Feliks, there’s really no need…”

“Oh come on, just let me have a little fun!” whined the boy, a slight pout gracing his lips. “You don’t really have to buy anything if you don’t want to, but at least try something on! Pretty please?”

The boy’s features displayed a hopeful expression. Maggie wanted nothing more than refuse, she didn’t want to be humiliated like that… but did she have any choice?

“O... okay,” she muttered, biting her lower lip.

Feliks sighed, rolling his eyes at the girl’s clear reluctance, but instead of saying something, he started rummaging around for clothes.

Maggie didn’t dare to look at him. Clenching her fists and fidgeting on her feet, the girl forced herself to focus her attention on the reflection on the mirror - and simultaneously, smooth down the creases on her forehead.

_This is stupid. It’s just some clothes, normal people do this all the time!_

When Feliks satisfied exclamation reached her ears, however, Maggie’s heart leapt into her throat. Almost fearfully, the girl turned towards the boy, who was waving the feared clothing items towards her.

A black sweater and a red pleated skirt. They looked… normal enough, not far from something Maggie would normally wear. They weren’t too flashy, at least. Yet, even from that distance, the girl could tell that the top was much more form-fitting than what she was used to.

“Feliks…” she muttered, her stomach twisting.

The boy sighed tiredly as he approached her, his smile growing forced.

“Listen. I already said you don’t have to buy anything. But at least - _I_ _beg you_ \- try this on. Just for this time, then I won’t bother you anymore.”

Maggie wanted nothing more than refusing, but she found the denial blocked in her throat. She couldn’t ignore the uneasiness written in Feliks’s features. With her chest heavy, the girl took the offered clothes and headed towards the changing room, all her energies focused on not letting the unnatural smile curving her lips fade.

_It’s just some clothes._

And for some reason, her heart was beating so wildly that it almost threatened to explode. Ignoring the way her legs felt like stone, Maggie slowly stripped out of her clothes and slipped into the new ones, carefully avoiding to look at the mirror.

Only when she had finished dressing up Maggie slowly raised her head on the reflection in the mirror. She sight left her frozen. There was nothing particularly outrageous in the clothing items she was wearing, the skirt was just a bit shorter than she would’ve liked and the sweater’s neckline almost bared her shoulders, yet Maggie’s skin was crawling with disgust of other people seeing her in such attire. The sweater was unforgivably tight, hugging her forms, it put them dangerously on display in a way that would make people notice her. Maggie could already imagine their mocking stares, the sneers…

“Are you done?” Feliks’s voice jerked the girl back to reality.

“Y-yeah,” she stammered, the words automatically leaving her mouth.

Maggie’s brain caught up only a moment later, but Feliks had already swept open the curtain with determination.

“Feliks!” remarked Erika’s soft voice, “Not like this…”

The fact that Feliks wasn’t alone only increased Maggie’s uneasiness, but the girl managed to fight off the strong impulse to hide against a corner and stood still.

“What are you worrying about? I told you, you look fabulous!” said Feliks, satisfaction seeping through his voice.

Maggie fidgeted on her feet.

_Not true. We just have different tastes._

“Thanks…” she muttered anyway, not knowing how else to answer without aggravating Feliks. She couldn’t bring herself to raise her head, however.

Feliks huffed.

“But you don’t believe me, do you? What’s the problem?”

“You really do look good.” Erika intervened softly.

Maggie finally dared to raise her head.

“It’s… it’s not really my style,” she settled for saying, “Thank you, but…”

“No,” Feliks interrupted her sternly, “It’s not this and you know it. You just don’t want to wear tight clothes.” When Maggie opened her mouth to reply, the boy held up a hand. “Which would be completely fine, if you just liked baggy clothes better. But you don’t. You just think that you’re not beautiful enough to fit into tight clothes.”

That was exactly the point. Maggie would have almost felt relieved that Feliks understood, if it weren’t for the boy’s scowl. Why did he make it sound like something bad?

_Oh!_

“I don’t think I’m fat.” Maggie murmured, locking eyes with Feliks as she remembered the conversation they had had one of her first days of school. A lifetime seemed to have passed between that conversation and then. “It’s not the point, I just…”

“You already said that,” Feliks interrupted her, “But this isn’t the only point. You’re hiding under those baggy clothes of yours, but you’ve got nothing to hide.”

 _‘I’ve got everything to hide,’_ Maggie wanted to say, but the words died in her dry throat.

“I understand what not being comfortable with your own body feels like.” Erika intervened quietly, gently. “I… I wish I were different too. I wish I looked older.” A light blush blossomed over the girl’s cheeks, but in spite of the visible discomfort, she went on talking. “But this is my body, and it’s not going to change. There’s no point hiding it. And you shouldn’t either. I can guarantee that you’re truly beautiful - and while not hiding might feel scary, it will make you feel better afterwards.”

“Because you have absolutely nothing to hide!” Feliks continued, “You’re gorgeous, but it’s not the point. You shouldn’t worry about the others, really. But you have to learn to be comfortable with yourself!”

Maggie was left staring at the other two teens, her eyes wide.

“I…”

The mere thought of showing off in public closed off her throat, but she couldn’t ignore Erika’s and Feliks’s earnest words. How much effort they were putting into that. They wouldn’t have if they didn’t care. Maggie’s head was spinning.

“Come on,” said Feliks, grabbing her arms to drag Maggie out of the changing room. “Trust me, you’ll feel better later.”

The girl was too paralyzed by the surprise to put up an effective resistance. She swallowed around the lump in her throat, her blood running cold when she stepped into the busy mall… and nobody said anything.

After a quick look around, Maggie realized that nobody was even _looking_ at her. The wave of relief that washed over her made her head spin.

_Of course, what was I thinking?_

People weren’t there to look at her. The only person who seemed to notice her, actually, was Feliciano, who was walking towards them with some sweaters piled up in his arms.

“Hey, you look good!” he said with a bright smile before turning to Erika. “I’ve found some jackets that will look wonderful with your new dress, you should try them on and we’ll decide, all right?”

And like that, it was done. Maggie still felt far from beautiful, but no mocking stares or whispered comments met her - even Iryna and Natalya, coming just a bit later, complimented her. It wasn’t nearly as bad as she would have imagined, and Maggie was almost starting to get used to those clothes. Could it be that she could actually afford to buy them?

“Take them,” Feliks stated with a wink, as if he had been reading into her mind. “And do me a favour: wear them around Alfred. I want to see his reaction.”

A scorching heat rose to Maggie’s cheeks.

“Feliks!”

For the first time, however, she couldn’t deny that there was no ill intent in Feliks’s words. The grin he offered her looked amused, but not _at_ her - _with_ her. As if they were both part of the same joke. Maggie had done nothing to deserve such wonderful people, but how could she let them go? Couldn’t she find a way to reciprocate their support, instead? It was a dream far out of her possibilities. Yet, it would’ve been so nice…

* * *

“Aand done! As usual, the Hero wins!” Alfred cheered, throwing his arms into the hair as his cart cut the line first.

Kiku immediately followed him, and then Mikkel.

“Don’t be so cheeky,” remarked the latter, “Kiku won all the previous games, he’s just distracted because his girlfriend called him.”

“Girlfriend?” Alfred turned to Kiku, his eyebrows rising in surprise. “Did I miss something?”

He had never seen Kiku flirt, and he looked far too shy for that…

“No girlfriend!” the teen replied, his hands rigid on the controller as if he was barely restraining himself from swatting Mikkel with it. “It was just Hesper. She was texting me to say that she’s going to be back soon.”

The tips of his ears, however, had turned red.

“I thought she was going to stay away longer,” mused Tolys, having just finished his game a moment before Ludwig. “Isn’t a gap year supposed to last an _entire_ year?”

“Yes, but she said she missed it here. She’s coming back and helping her mother with the library,” Kiku answered firmly, keeping his head down.

Mikkel’s grin widened.

“And you know because…?”

Alfred wouldn’t have thought that Kiku’s cheeks could turn a more intense shade of scarlet, but somehow, they did just that. The boy, however, was spared from answering by Ludwig’s deep voice.

“Anybody wants a snack? Gil brought some cake from the department, we’ll never finish it on our own.”

Still basking in his recent victory, Alfred couldn’t have asked for anything better - also because Kiku was admittedly going to destroy him as soon as he got his head back into the game, so he wanted to enjoy it as long as it lasted.

“Sure, man!”

The teen jumped up and headed towards the kitchen, stretching, as the others followed after him.

Ludwig had just finished piling the cake into everybody’s plate when his phone rang.

“It’s Feli,” he said, looking at the screen. “I’d better answer, I had asked him to buy some stuff for tomorrow…"

Ludwig walked away and stopped in the doorway, talking softly enough that the other teens couldn’t hear him.

Alfred dug into the cake, relishing in the flavour of chocolate, but he couldn’t help but stare at Ludwig from time to time.

Maggie was at the mall with the others. Alfred hoped that she was having fun… but even more, he hoped that the others were making her feel welcome. He shouldn’t have any doubt about that, yet he couldn’t smother a lingering spark of concern. He wished he could’ve said something to somebody else, alerted them of the situation… but Maggie wouldn’t have wanted that. Alfred had to remind himself that.

The boy stabbed the cake with more force than necessary.

He wished he could be with Maggie at that moment. He wanted to hug her and don’t let her go until she realized how wonderful she was and how much he cared for her. How could such a sweet, sensitive person believe that she was useless? But even that would have no effect.

 _“She has spent her entire life believing to be worthless. It takes time to undo this kind of damage, and being too direct would only make things worse,”_ Dad had told him.

Alfred could be patient. He would, for Maggie. But how much was she going to hurt in the meantime?

“Hey Al, is everything all right?” asked Tolys, bringing the boy back to reality.

Alfred was spared from finding an excuse by Ludwig’s unexpected yelp. They all jumped to their feet, but Ludwig waved them off.

“It’s all right,” he said, in spite of the way his eyes were still widened. “Feli just got startled because a man yelled at his daughter. You know how easily spooked he is, I thought something was happening… but it’s nothing.”

They all got back to their seats and the cake, but those few moments had been enough for Alfred to regain control of himself.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” he answered easily, flashing a smile at Tolys. “Just a bit lost in my thoughts, I was wondering if Francis remembers that he has to cook for tomorrow… He didn’t say anything. But I guess he does, I mean, it’s Francis.”

And Maggie was going to help him, Alfred knew that Francis had wanted to ask her. It was another step to make her used to people thinking she was a valuable person - and no matter how long it would take, Alfred was going to make sure that it worked.

* * *

 

The room was completely still, the silence broken only by the sound of Arthur’s finger tapping over the keyboard. The man let his lips curl into a slight smile as he straightened up, staring at his work. He had been accomplishing nothing at home, coming to the café had been an excellent idea. As the only occupant of the upper room, Arthur was granted the silence he needed to concentrate, and the change of scenery had only helped. The only thing missing to make the afternoon completely perfect was a good cup of tea…

As if on cue, approaching footsteps announced the arrival of Arthur’s order. A moment later, Michelle appeared from the stairs, her eyes lowered on the tray and the wavy twintails fluttering at her elbows with each step.

“Thank you, dear,” Arthur said with a smile as the girl place his tea on the table.

Michelle answered with a slight smile of her own.

Arthur had always thought that the girl would make a good main character for a book: she was one of those people who seemed to brighten every room they were in. Arthur had always seen her approach her tasks with determination, and in spite of how tired she must be, between the university and a part-time job, she always had a smile to offer to everybody.

It was because he was so used to her usual demeanour that Arthur realized there was something wrong with Michelle. She looked almost normal - but her steps were devoid of the usual energy, and her shoulders slightly hunched over.

“Is everything all right, poppet?”

The words seeped through his lips before Arthur could properly realize what he was doing. Michelle looked surprised as well as she froze, turning to him.

“I… yes, thank you,” she answered, but her voice was weak.

Arthur could’ve left it there, it wasn’t his business. However… Michelle was only nineteen. A child living in a foreign country, without the support of her family. And Arthur was an adult. A father. He knew what he would have wanted for Alfred, if he ever found himself in a similar situation.

“You look a bit tired.” He said lightly. “Mid-terms?”

Michelle nodded, fidgeting on her feet - and it was then that Arthur noticed with a twist of his stomach the tears glistening in her dark eyes. The girl’s face crumpled as she realized that he knew.

“S-sorry!” she sniffled, clasping a hand against her face.

“Michelle!” Arthur jumped from his seat, hovering next to the girl.

_Shit. What do I do now?_

But he couldn’t just let it be.

“Here, sit down for a moment,” he urged, laying a hand on Michelle’s shoulder.

The girl let her body fall on an armchair without resisting.

“I… I’m s-sorry, I…” she hiccupped, but she didn’t seem to be able to stop the tears now streaming down her face.

“It’s all right, nothing to worry about,” Arthur lied, “Just let it out. It happens to everybody, there’s nothing you should be ashamed of.”

Michelle took the tissue he handed her with a shaking hand and pressed it against her eyes.

“S-sorry,” she sniffled again, “I… I just…”

“You need to have a good cry.” Artur interrupted her sternly as he moved to sit back in his armchair and give Michelle some space. What was he even supposed to say? “It’s all right, nobody will scold you for this. Do you want to talk about it?”

Arthur almost wished for the girl to refuse - but who else could she talk to?

After some moments, Michelle gave a hesitant nod.

“It’s stupid, really,” she said weakly.

“It’s not stupid if it upsets you so much,” Arthur remarked gently, wincing internally as he thought about how many times in his teenage years he had thought something like that. That was why he needed to listen to Michelle.

The girl took some moments to compose herself before talking again, her head downcast and the side-bang dangling in front of her face, obscuring her eyes.

“It’s just… the mid-terms. They’re much more difficult than I thought they would be, there’s so much to study… I think I failed something.”

Arthur could _definitely_ sympathise with the feeling.

“You don’t know it. I know that it looks like this…”

“But I _know_ I failed something!” Michelle interrupted him tearfully, shifting on the armchair as she raised her head. “I just… there was so much to study, I didn’t have enough time…”

Arthur wasn’t cut out for that. He was the one who had _fainted_ because had forgotten to eat during some finals… but there was only him at that moment, he had to remind himself.

“You have been working a lot, it’s perfectly understandable,” he said gently, his hands clenching into fists under the table. “Since the day you set foot here, you immediately started looking for a job. I remember seeing you here since June… your effort is truly commendable. But you’re here to study, Michelle. Maybe you should work a bit less… I’m sure Berwald and Tiina would understand, you can arrange something with them.”

Michelle had a grant, didn’t she? Arthur thought she had, and he knew from experience that the grants were quite generous. She wouldn’t _need_ to work…

The girl shook her head with violence.

“But I _like_ working!” she sobbed, “I like it more than studying. I just… I like interacting with people, I like meeting new faces everyday…” the girl had to stop to blow her nose, tears welling again in her puffy eyes.

_Ah, there it is._

“Are you thinking about dropping out?” Arthur asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. He wasn’t casting any judgement, but the girl in front of him looked desperate enough to read one where it wasn’t.

Michelle froze.

“N-no!” she stammered, her eyes widening. “I… I c _an’t_ drop out! I… My parents were so _proud_ when I got accepted, all my family was… t-the only g-girl studying a-abroad, th-their baby, b-but… but… It’s s-so much harder than I w-was th-thinking! I… I just…”

The girl dissolved into sobs, her shoulders shaking.

Arthur rose to his feet and walked next to Michelle to lay a hand on her shoulders, his chest heavy.

“Michelle…”

 _“Fuck your parents,”_ nineteen-years-old Arthur would’ve said, _“You have to do what you want, you owe them nothing.”_

But Michelle still wanted their approval, to make them proud. And Arthur knew that he would’ve been proud of Alfred no matter what he did, he would have wanted to help him and be part of his decision. His chest tightened at the mere thought of Alfred in Michelle’s situation.

“Are your parents reasonable people?”

Seeing how cheerful and confident the girl generally looked, Arthur would have thought so, but sometimes, the people who smiled the brightest were those harbouring the darkest secrets in their depths.

Michelle immediately nodded, unable to speak.

Arthur gently squeezed her shoulder.

“Then they would understand your choice, Michelle. They would want you to be happy above anything else. You should talk to them about this.”

That was exactly the opposite of what Arthur would have done in the same situation - but he hoped that Alfred would take the decision he was suggesting to Michelle. A bitter voice in a corner of his brain taunted Arthur for his hypocrisy, but he repressed it. _His_ situation was different.

“I-I know!” Michelle sobbed, “My parents lo-love me so much, they wouldn’t blame m-me, but… but… I just wanted to ma-make them proud!”

Arthur found himself thinking about Maggie. She had claimed that her mother loved her, too, but with her egoism, that woman had stripped her away of any sense of self-worth. What if Michelle’s parents were the same?

Arthur had to change tactic.

“If Alfred kept doing something he didn’t like because he wanted to make me proud and never told me, I would be heartbroken.”

A stab of guilt pierced Arthur’s chest as soon as the words seeped out of his lips - guilt-tripping Michelle was the last thing he wanted - but the girl raised her head.

“Really?” she muttered, still sniffling - but her big eyes were looking hopefully at Arthur.

“I’m serious about this,” Arthur confirmed. Empty words had carried him nowhere, maybe something more concrete, instead, would be what Michelle needed. “Of course I want Alfred to succeed - but above everything else, I want him to be happy. That’s all I want. And if he doesn’t immediately find the right path for him, I won’t be any less proud - I will help him get back on track. Sometimes we make mistakes, Michelle. But if your parents love you even half of what I love Alfred, they’ll want you to do what makes you happy.”

“Oh…” the girl stared at him, still sniffling.

“Talk to your parents, Michelle,” Arthur said again, gently, his hand never leaving the girl’s shoulder.

This time, she nodded.

It took Michelle some other long minutes to compose herself, and Arthur, for how awkward and useless he was feeling, didn’t leave her side.

“If you don’t have plans for tomorrow, you should come with us,” he said in the end, when Michelle was about to leave. “We’ll have a Thanksgiving lunch with everybody… you know most of the kids, they’ll be happy to see you. Berwald and Tiina will be there as well, you can ask them if you want.”

_‘And you can talk to Lovino. He’ll show you that attending university isn’t the only way.’_

Michelle managed to flash him a small smile as she nodded before disappearing downstairs.

Arthur finally let himself sink into the armchair with a sigh, massaging his temples.

…When had he become a sensible adult? And such a hypocrite, too. He didn’t regret his decision to shut the door to his parents, they had never given him anything good. But he couldn’t in good conscience suggest the same to anybody else, after experiencing what being a parent meant. He was reasonably sure that Michelle’s parents would be supportive of her choice, she had said so herself.

In spite of that, she had wanted to hide her sadness from them to make them proud. Would Alfred do something like that, too? Panic gripped Arthur’s stomach. It always went down to the parents. How they behaved shaped their children lives, for the better or the worse.

The thought was terrifying - Arthur didn’t even _know_ how caring parents behaved.

Amelia would have. Arthur could only do his best and pray it would be enough. And at the same time, Alfred’s was the greatest gift of Arthur’s life, he had never once regretted the decision. That was why he had to offer everything he could to Alfred - and not only him. Parents made mistakes, but they would be easier to correct if they weren’t the only ones looking out for their children. Alfred was lucky to have other adults he could trust - and if Arthur could return the favour, he _had_ to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Erika is Liechtenstein  
> Iryna is Ukraine (and Irunya her diminutive)  
> Mikkel is Denmark  
> Hesper is Nyo!Greece  
> Michelle is Seychelles  
> Tiina is Nyo!Finland
> 
> There will be another slow chapter before something big happens, I hope you’re enjoying some relaxed interactions. I’m still quite busy, but I’ll try not to let a month pass this time.  
> Lastly, feedback is always appreciated :)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These waits keep getting longer and longer. I certainly didn’t mean it, and I apologize for this – I must sound like a broken record by now, but I truly have a lot going on in real life and it just keeps getting worse. I thank you for the support though, it’s truly appreciated. I hope that somebody is still interested in this!
> 
> No particular warnings aside from the fact that English still isn’t my first language.

That day was a close to perfection as Alfred could hope. The winter seemed to have decided to leave people a couple of days of respite before descending on them with its cold, and the sun rays still cast warmth on every surface they touched.

That probably meant that the lunch was going to be prepared outside - _if only his father finally decided to get ready_.

“Dad!” Alfred called for the umpteenth time, craning his neck to look inside from his position at the doorway. “Dad, get a move! What are you waiting for, next Thanksgiving? We should have been at Francis’s ten minutes ago!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” his father’s clipped voice answered along with his hurried footsteps. “Give me a minute, will you? I had some stuff to e-mail to Roger…”

Alfred rolled his eyes, but he refrained from pointing out that Arthur’s editor never worked on holidays - if in more than fifteen years Arthur hadn’t gotten the memo, he probably wasn’t going to start now, and Alfred just wanted to go.

“Oh well, nice of you to finally come,” he mumbled instead as he preceded his father to the car, “Francis was probably about to send a search party or something…”

Not to mention Maggie. Maybe Alfred was exaggerating, but the girl was definitely prone to worrying, and so was Francis… between the two of them, even such a short delay could turn into the worst suppositions. Francis would handle it, but Maggie… the thought of causing her any distress made a vague sense of uneasiness blossom at the pit of Alfred’s stomach.

The boy had already hopped into the car when Arthur’s phone rang, making the man freeze.

“Who’s now…” he muttered as his right hand fished into the pocket of his trench coat and came back with the phone.

“Dad, don’t-” Alfred’s protest died in his throat as his father’s features tightened, his eyes growing colder.

“Dad?” Alfred asked in a softer voice as his stomach plummeted. He knew that look.

“It’s Alistair,” Arthur answered wearily, confirming Alfred’s suspicions. “He wants me to call him once I’m free…”

Arthur suddenly looked ten years older, drained and defeated. Alfred found himself wondering if he had noticed how his shoulders were hunched over, as if to protect himself.

Hot rage coursed through Alfred’s veins, his entire body stiffening. He liked Alistair. He despised him for the memories that the mere mention of his name stirred in his father, however.

“Well, you aren’t free now!” the boy snapped, puffing his cheeks. “We have to go, Uncle Ali can wait! It’s not even a holiday in Scotland, he’ll have work to do anyway. He can wait until tomorrow!”

Arthur shook himself and threw the phone in Alfred’s lap.

“Of course he can wait, I’m not at that wanker’s service,” he almost growled as he got into the car. “Hold the phone for me, will you? I’ll be driving now, you answer if that worrywart of Francis calls.”

After that, the man shut the door with a bang and ignited the car with so much fury that it almost snapped Alfred out of his seat.

“Woah!” the boy protested automatically, bracing himself.

Only then, the creases on Arthur’s forehead smoothened.

“Oh well, excuse me, your highness. I thought we were late, I was just trying to get us to Francis in time…”

Alfred found himself relaxing as he realized that his father’s voice was back to normal. Or mostly normal, anyway. Was he still keeping his back more rigid than usual? Alfred kept inspecting his father out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t tell.

The boy bit his lower lip and tightened his hands into fists to restrain the question that was bubbling up his throat. He _would_ have to face the issue, sooner or later, but that probably wasn’t the right moment: in just a couple of hours, Arthur would be surrounded by his friend and probably forget the matter altogether. Bringing it up and keep his mind focused on it would probably only make the issue worse, wouldn’t it?

Alfred was itching to ask, to _know_. But maybe, that wasn’t what his father needed, at the moment - Alfred should stop putting himself first. Swallowing, the boy turned his eyes from his father’s frame and forced himself to stare out of the window, to the people who were moving on the sidewalks and waiting in groups in front of the gates. Family reunions, most likely. Why did everybody always complain about them? To Alfred’s eyes, they looked like joyous gatherings, unless somebody truly had a horrid family… but he doubted there were so many of them: the people who had grown up like his father were a minority, after all.

“Alfred, will you cut it off? You’re not making the car go any faster.”

Only at his father’s reprimand, the boy realized that he had been tapping his right foot.

“Oh come on, don’t tell me I was bothering you!” he whined, straightening on the seat.

Arthur pursed his lips.

“You weren’t putting me in a good mood, that’s for sure.”

Now he was definitely more relaxed, however, there was no denying it. The weight at the bottom of Alfred’s stomach lessened.

“Hey, what did Francis cook? I didn’t get to ask him. It’s something we like too, isn’t it? I mean, considering that he cooks for us as well it would only be fair…”

Arthur simply grunted, but Alfred provided to a light conversation for the few minutes that separated them from Francis’s house. Alfred’s excitation for the upcoming day was starting to stir inside him, slowly demoting Alistair and everything else to a remote corner of his mind.

When Arthur finally pulled into Francis’s lawn, Alfred swiftly unlatched his belt while his other hand was already opening the door and all but jumped out of the car, not even waiting for it to stop completely. Heedless of his father rebuke, the boy hopped to Francis’s door, not bothering to hide the smile that blossomed on his face.

Francis was waiting in front of the door, his arms folded across his chest in a poor imitation of sternness. The light smile tugging at the corners of lips immediately betrayed him.

“Sorry for being late,” Alfred said anyway, “Not my fault though. I was ready _ages_ ago.”

Francis offered him a smirk before raising his eyes on Arthur, who was approaching them.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. Don’t you know that holidays shouldn’t be spent holed up in your room working, _mon amour_?”

“Oh, bugger off.” In spite of the frown etched on Arthur’s features, the irritation lacing his voice was mild at best, almost faked for the sake of a routine. “Stop behaving like I’m the one in the wrong just because I put some effort in what I do…”

His words faded in the background as Alfred’s heart suddenly skipped a beat.

Maggie had just appeared in his line of sight, tip-toeing behind Francis with a covered tray carefully balanced in her hands. There was nothing new in the controlled grace of her steps or the shy smile that curled her lips when she spotted Alfred. What was new, however, were the clothes she was wearing.

Rationally, Alfred had always been aware that Maggie had a gorgeous body. In spite of her baggy clothes, the girl often hugged herself, unknowingly revealing her figure, yet… there was something completely _different_ in the way the blouse tucked inside her skirt highlighted her thin waist and curvy frame. Alfred could feel the heat rising to his cheeks, but for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off.

“Hi,” Maggie said then, finally breaking off the charm.

Desperately trying to keep his mind on the present issues, Alfred plastered a wide smile on his face and strode past Francis to help Maggie with the tray.

“Looking good,” he couldn’t help but comment, which made Maggie blush and divert her eyes.

It was _unfair_ how pretty she was. But no, _‘pretty’_ wasn’t enough to depict the way Maggie’s long lashes seemed to brush her cheekbones when she blinked, the contrast between her white skin and dark lips…

“Are we going or not?” Arthur’s voice made Alfred jump out of his skin, tearing a gasp from his lips as he was brought back to reality. “Last time I checked, _you_ were the one complaining because we were going to be late…”

“Coming!” Alfred shouted back, automatically taking the tray from Maggie’s hands as he flashed her a smile before turning away.

_No flirting with Maggie._

That would make her even more uncomfortable than she already was. Probably, she hadn’t liked the comment on her attire… but Alfred couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. Maggie didn’t think she was beautiful, and that was painfully obvious, but maybe, if he kept repeating it, she was going to believe it.

_I just have to take it slow._

It wasn’t exactly Alfred’s speciality, but if he kept that in mind he could do it. For Maggie. Francis’s and Arthur’s presence helped as well, diffusing the tension with the light chatter and fake arguments that couldn’t hide the fondness they had for each other. Even Maggie didn’t seem to mind them anymore. Unlike Alfred, she didn’t intervene, but she was sitting with a relaxed stance and her lips were curved into a slight smile.

Alfred didn’t mention her clothes anymore, instead intervening to tell anecdotes of the previous years along with Francis and Arthur – how Roderich and Arthur’s combined efforts had almost set the grill on fire, that time Gilbert had made the mistake of startling Erzsébet and had received a broken nose for his effort… Maggie even laughed, at times. Alfred couldn’t help but notice how her eyes sparkled when she wasn’t worrying about something. How her straightened shoulders showed…

Alfred abruptly turned his head, focusing back on the two adults in the front seats and trying to ignore the scorching heat under his skin. Maggie wasn’t dressed that way _for him_ , it was probably an effort to make her grow more confident in her body… in spite of that, Alfred couldn’t smother the slight pang of gratefulness he felt towards that person (he would have bet on Feliks or Feliciano, but Francis might have helped as well) who had convinced the girl to done that attire.

Finally, they arrived at their destination, pulling Alfred out of his thoughts. This time, he waited for the car to stop before unfastening his belt and he held the door open for Maggie, offering her a bright smile. The girl smiled back, but Alfred didn’t miss how her back was rigid with tension. In spite of the front lawn being empty, the numerous cars already parked there anticipated the number of people who were already in the more spacious garden behind the house.

“There are more people every year,” Francis commented as he looked around. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

Alfred nodded enthusiastically, looping his arm around Maggie’s shoulders as they started making their way to the house. The girl was rigid against him, but she didn’t contradict Francis’s words.

“Michelle will be here as well,” Arthur cut in unexpectedly, “The holiday was too short to go back home, and since she knows all of you Berwald and Tiina thought it would be nice to invite her.”

Alfred would have expected Michelle to have some friends to hang with, but maybe they all lived close enough to go back to their families. Besides, even if Alfred didn’t know her well, every time they had exchanged a couple of words Michelle had been nice and bubbly, having her around would be a nice addition. Maggie would also probably feel less of an outsider, since she was in the same situation.

“Most likely, Berwald suggested it and Tiina asked Michelle,” Alfred whispered to Maggie, loud enough for Francis and Arthur to hear as well. “I can’t really see him asking, can you?”

“Well, he _is_ a bit awkward,” Maggie answered, shrugging, “But he’s nice. He might have asked her himself.”

A small smile was tugging at the corners of her lips, but there was a strange glint in her eyes.

“But you don’t think so, do you?” Alfred guessed.

Maggie hesitated a moment, her eyes darting to Arthur’s and Francis’s backs. When she finally answered, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I think… I think that _your father_ might have asked her.”

At Alfred’s quizzical stare, the girl offered him a small smile.

“You were complaining that he burned down some rice because he went to the café and forgot he had the stove on. He might have met Michelle there. And your father is really nice, you know? But he _is_ kind of awkward as well and he just… probably didn’t feel like asking her himself. Maybe he brought it up with Tiina and asked her to invite Michelle.”

Alfred kept staring at Maggie, startled by her suggestion. A light blush blossomed over the girl’s cheekbones, and she diverted her eyes.

“I-I mean. Your Dad’s really nice, even if he doesn’t always let it show. And quite observant, too. Michelle might have mentioned something that made him realize she was going to spend the holiday alone. I just… he said it in a way that made me wonder.”

“You might be right,” Alfred conceded, focusing his eyes on his father’s back.

Arthur was one of the most awkward people Alfred had ever seen. Sometimes he felt sorry for him, in spite of being fundamentally kind and well-mannered, his father tended to drive people away with a bit of misplaced sarcasm or stiffness. But Maggie’s judgement wasn’t ungrounded: Arthur was always careful with her, and Alfred should have never forgotten that he was easily moved, for how much he pretended otherwise.

Alfred was brought out his reverie when Francis, who had reached the door, rang the bell.

A loud barking was the immediate answer, followed by Gilbert’s shout of _“Coming, coming!”_

Alfred barely registered it, his eyes focused on the black ball of fur that dashed out of the door as it was opened.

“Hi, Berlitz!” the boy greeted enthusiastically as the dog obediently stopped at his feet, waggling his tail.

When Alfred knelt down to rub Berlitz’s head, he was rewarded with an enthusiastic lick.

“Aw, I love you too,” the boy cooed, relishing on the sensation of the soft fur against his hand.

Berlitz barked in agreement.

“Hey, you aren’t afraid of dogs, are you?”

Gilbert’s question reminded Alfred that Maggie was standing right next to him, and Berlitz’s appearance might have startled her. The girl, however, seemed to have been staring at the dog in adoration before snapping back to Gilbert.

“Oh no, sir. I’m not afraid at all. I love dogs, sir. I’m sorry if I gave that impression, I just know that I’m not supposed to interact with dogs I don’t know because I might startle them and I didn’t…”

“Whoa whoa, hold on!”

Gilbert stopped the girl before she could faint from hyperventilation – which she looked like she might do, given how fast she had been talking. Alfred almost wanted to hit himself. It was the first time Maggie met Gilbert, he should have expected her to be intimidated. After a last pat at Berlitz’s head, the boy straightened up.

“First of all, stop with the ‘sir’ business,” Gilbert went on, smirking. “I understand that I’m quite extraordinary looking, but ‘sir’ was my grandfather. I’m just Gil. Second, you didn’t imply anything. We have three dogs and we let them free since nobody is afraid, but they’re quite big. We could close them behind the fence if you were afraid, Ludwig said that he had forgotten to ask you. That’s why I’m doing it. No problem, all right? And you can touch him, by the way. He likes meeting new people.”

Alfred stepped to a side, nudging Maggie with his elbow. After a brief moment of hesitation, the girl knelt down and tentatively lowered her hand on Berlitz’s head. When the dog answered with an inviting bark and wiggling his tail, a smile lit up Maggie’s face. She stroked Berlitz’s fur with more confidence and giggled when the dog licked her hand.

“I think he likes you,” Alfred commented as he lowered down next to them.

Maggie offered him a small smile before raising her head to look at Gilbert.

“Thank you so much s-Gilbert. And I’m sorry if I gave the wrong impression.”

“Hey, stop apologizing so much!” was the immediate reply, “You didn’t do anything wrong. And seriously, ‘sir’ does have a nice ring, I’ll admit it, but it’s ‘Gil’.”

Maggie stilled as if she were debating what to do, her eyes still trained on Gilbert.

Francis was the one who intervened, stepping closer to the girl.

“Don’t worry about him, Marguerite. There’s really no need for formalities, no more than you would with an overgrown toddler.”

His gentle words seemed to be effective. Maggie finally relaxed, the tension leaving her shoulders as she smiled at Francis, ignoring Gilbert’s complaint of _“Come on, Frannie, that’s just rude!”_.

“We should carry the cakes inside,” she said instead, her head snapping back to Gilbert. “Where…”

“Don’t worry about it, Francis and I will take care of it,” Arthur cut her off, an inflexion of finality in his voice. “I bet the others are waiting for you, you should go to them.”

“They’re in the backyard,” Gilbert concluded as he started heading towards the car with the other two adults.

Maggie’s brow furrowed in indecision. Alfred gave her a nudge and stood up after stroking Berlitz for one last time.

“Come on, let’s go. It’s only a couple of cakes, they can take care of it.”

“And you cooked, you already did more than I did,” he added when the girl seemed about to retort.

Maggie still didn’t look completely convinced, her eyes lingering on the three adults, but when Alfred wrapped an arm around her shoulders to steer her away she smiled at him and didn’t protest.

Followed by Berlitz, the two teens walked to the backyard, where they were welcomed by a pleasant smell of grilled meat that elicited a loud grumble from Alfred’s stomach.

“Hey, it’s almost lunchtime!” the boy defended himself at Maggie’s amused smile, “And you have no idea about how good Gil’s meat is… seriously, I don’t know how he does it. Meat should be meat, right? But for some reason, he manages to cook it far more delicious than anything I’ve ever had. He’s just a wizard, I swear.”

Maggie’s smile widened. She didn’t say if she was hungry or not, but she never did. Knowing her, she would also feel too nervous to eat… but hopefully, she would feel at ease soon, those gathering always carried a welcoming atmosphere. Alfred still made a mental note to check that Maggie ate something.

The smell was soon followed by the muffled sounds of cheerful chatter that made warmth blossom in Alfred’s chest, his smile widening as his eyes finally landed on all the people gathered in small groups around the backyard, some helping with the grill, some setting a table with the drinks and other simply chatting around. Somebody might have said that Alfred had only one family member, but it wasn’t true: _that_ was his family. And he wouldn’t have changed it for anything in the world.

As Alfred raised his voice to greet everybody, Berlitz ran away with a joyful barking to join Aster and Blackie, who were playing with Feliciano, Ludwig and Mikkel. The noise alerted everybody of their presence.

Before Alfred could even blink, most of the other teens converged towards them. Alfred finally let go of Maggie to talk with Mikkel, but the girl had already been claimed by Erika and the timid smile on her lips didn’t look forced.

It was going to be a wonderful day, Alfred knew it. For Maggie – but also for Arthur, who had just emerged from the back door with Francis and Gilbert to start a conversation with Yao. He looked more relaxed than Alfred usually saw him, younger. Not pressing on the Alistair matter had probably been the right decision, when there were so many wonderful things to focus on.

The rest of the morning and afternoon went on without a switch, a flurry of activities and food and laughter from everybody. Alfred barely sat down a second, he found himself helping with the grill and then involved in an impromptu soccer match with most of the other males. Maggie at first didn’t join because she was wearing a skirt, but after an incredibly well-aimed kick when the ball rolled next to her feet the boys cajoled her into playing as well. For how hesitant she might have been at first, she quickly gave in to her competitive streak. With her eyes shining and her cheeks reddened by the effort, Alfred had hardly ever seen anything that beautiful. He hoped she was having fun. He certainly was.

After a lavish and just as informal and comfortable lunch, everybody spread around again. Alfred had just finished a volleyball match and was cooling down next to the drinks table, tired but satisfied, as he was trying to locate Maggie. The girl hadn’t joined them for the game, but Alfred was sure that either Francis or the other girls had kept her entertained. A moment later, the boy spotted her standing next to Francis and involved in what looked like a relaxed conversation with the francophone circle – Laura, her sister Charlotte and Michelle. They were probably speaking in French, too. Alfred considered calling Maggie, but the girl looked more comfortable than he had often seen her. Not only her stance was relaxed, she also seemed to be taking an active part in the conversation. Maybe Alfred should learn a bit of French as well…

“Hey, do you like Maggie’s new clothes?”

Alfred gasped as Feliks’s voice startled him out of his contemplation. The boy was standing next to him, his lips curled into a smile that almost looked more like a smirk.

Alfred’s answer would have been positive, but for some reason, expressing the thought out loud brought a strange twist to his stomach.

“Did she buy them yesterday?” he asked instead.

Feliks hummed.

“The top. She already had the skirt, but I made her promise that she would tuck the blouse into it instead of wearing it over… it gives a completely different effect, don’t you think?”

Once again, Alfred completely agreed. And the heat that was at that point scorching his cheeks was truly uncomfortable… the boy took a glass of lemonade and drank it in a single sip under Feliks’s attentive stare.

…Why did Feliks look like he knew something more than Alfred?

Fortunately, the boy was spared from a further humiliation by Feliciano’s arrival.

“Are you talking about Maggie?” the boy asked cheerfully, pouring himself a glass of water. “Why didn’t anybody ever tell me that she was Francis’s daughter?”

Alfred chocked on the lemonade. He bent forward, coughing madly, and part of his brain registered Feliks’s alarmed cry and the boy’s slender hands on his back – but the rest was stuck on Feliciano’s words.

“What-” he gasped as soon as his lungs could take in some air, not even bothering the brush the away the tears streaming from his eyes. “What are you...?”

“Al, are you okay?”

Feliciano stepped towards him, his eyes wide in concern and his hands outstretched, but Alfred swatted them and stepped away from Feliks.

He coughed again before managing to take a full breath.

“What do you mean, Francis is Maggie’s father?”

His raspy voice still managed to covey all his puzzlement and urgency. Feliciano blinked, fidgeting on his feet.

“Is he not?” His eyes were round with confusion. “But…”

“Of course he’s not,” intervened Feliks, “Maggie lives with her step-father, who isn’t here. Why would Francis be her father?”

There was no reason to think that. Maggie had absolutely no connection to Francis, aside from…

“Oh!” Alfred shook his head as the pieces finally fell into place. A snort went past his lips. “That’s… Francis’s not her father, dude. They don’t live in the same house, she lives in the next one.”

Feliciano didn’t look as convinced as Alfred would have hoped. Instead, his brow furrowed as he seemed to contemplate something.

“You said that she lives with her step-father. Who is her _real_ father, then?”

Alfred found himself hesitating, unsure of how much he could tell Feliciano. He had never considered it before, but he didn’t know what Maggie had shared with other people.

Feliks preceded him.

“I think she doesn’t know. You know that her Mom is dead, right? I think she was a single mother.”

When Feliks looked at Alfred for confirmation, the boy was forced to nod.

Feliciano shook his head.

“If she doesn’t know, it _could_ be Francis.”

Alfred couldn’t argue with that. However…

“What’s going on here?” Ludwig’s deep voice intervened unexpectedly as the boy walked closer to the table.

“Feli thinks that Francis could be Maggie’s father,” Feliks reported without hiding his scepticism. “But it doesn’t really make sense.”

“It does!” Feliciano replied, pouting. “I mean, Francis has had some lovers over the years, one could’ve been Maggie’s mother… does she know anything about her father?”

Three pairs of questioning eyes landed on Alfred.

_Maggie didn’t tell anybody else, then._

Alfred was quite sure that this meant he wasn’t supposed to talk, either, but his mind flashed back to Maggie’s uneasiness when she had talked about the issue. His stomach twisted at the memory: he hadn’t realized it back then, but now it was painfully clear… the problem was that Feliciano was probably going to ask her himself if Alfred didn’t say anything.

“Listen, I don’t know if I should be telling you this,” he stated, bending closer to the other three boys.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t,” Ludwig interrupted him, “I don’t know where you took this from, Feli. This is ridiculous.”

For how much Alfred agreed with Ludwig’s opinion, Feliciano’s jaw was set in determination, he wasn’t going to back off easily. Alfred preceded his protests.

“But I’d rather be the one saying this instead of you asking Maggie. She doesn’t know who her father his, okay? And neither does her mother, apparently. It was a one-night stand and she was drunk, so she didn’t remember. But, there’s no way it was Francis because it happened…”

The boy froze, his eyes widening.

“It happened?” Feliks echoed him, bending closer.

“In France,” Alfred found himself whispering, automatically looking for Feliciano’s eyes. “It happened in France. So it doesn’t cut out Francis, actually.”

_Could it be?_

The boy automatically turned, his eyes stopping on Maggie’s frame. The girl shrugged as Francis gave a light pat on her shoulder – she looked embarrassed, but didn’t shy away from the man’s touch. On the contrary, she almost leaned into it, as if to draw strength from it. They got along so well…

“This is ridiculous,” Ludwig snapped, prompting Alfred to turn back to him. The teen’s brow was furrowed. “There are plenty of Frenchmen around, it could have been anybody else. Why on earth should it be Francis?”

Feliciano fidgeted on his feet.

“Yes, I know. But… they look so much alike! Can’t you see that? Maggie has Francis’s high cheekbones that make her eyes look slightly slanted. Her complexion is a bit lighter, but almost the same. Like him, she has dark lashes in spite of the light hair. Oh, and her hair is really soft and shiny, just like Francis’s!”

Alfred stared back to Maggie and Francis. He couldn’t actually see any resemblance aside from the hair, but Maggie had gotten most of her looks from her mother… aside from the eye-shape, now that Alfred thought about it. Which _did_ resemble Francis’s.

“Well, it may be…” Feliks started saying as Alfred turned back to Feliciano, a slight frown creasing his forehead. “But I’m not sure…”

“It doesn’t mean anything, dipshit,” Lovino intervened as he walked behind Feliciano. Frowning, he cuffed his brother in the back of his head.

Feliciano jumped to a side and whined in protest.

“But…”

“People can look like one another without being related, dumbass. I mean, at this point, Maggie should be Alfred’s long-lost sister instead. She looks more like him than Francis.”

“Hey, that’s not true!” Alfred protested, but Feliks was looking at him in fascination.

“Well, you’re kind of a pretty boy,” he declared unapologetically, “Lovino’s right on this. You two look alike a lot.”

“Oh well, look who’s talking. And she’s _not_ my sister, anyway.”

Alfred knew that with certainty, yet his heart leapt to his throat.

Lovino rolled his eyes.

“I know she isn’t. That’s exactly the point, you impressionable morons. She shares some physical traits with Francis, and? It doesn’t mean shit. What’s even so important in Francis being Maggie’s father, anyway?”

 _‘Her step-father is a first-grade asshole and if Francis actually were her father he would get her way in a heartbeat,’_ Alfred wanted to say, but he was sure that it would have been stepping over the boundaries.

“In any case, it’s impossible,” Ludwig commented, “Francis didn’t go back to Paris that year.”

“What?” Alfred asked automatically, impressed. “Dude, how do you know that? You were like, one year old, and you weren’t even here…”

Ludwig having a good memory was quite renowned, but that was ridiculous…

“For how much it pains me to admit this, he’s completely right,” Lovino intervened. “You probably don’t know, but it gets brought back sometimes since Gil and Toni know Marianne as well… 1998-1999 was the timeframe of the Great Fallout between Francis and his mother. I don’t know what happened, just that they had a huge argument and didn’t talk to each other for well over one year and a half. I don’t exactly know the period since I wasn’t involved, but…”

“Holy shit, is that true?” Alfred blurted out, his eyes widening.

He was aware that Francis and his mother often argued due to the woman’s eccentric ( _“insufferably self-centred”,_ his father had declared more than once) personality, but not that it was so bad… he wouldn’t have taken Francis for one able to keep such grudges.

“Yes, but they got over it eventually,” Ludwig confirmed, “And Gil once said that it might have been because… after you were born and Francis saw how much your mother cared for you, he decided to seek out his mother again. But that was a couple of months after you were born, so he couldn’t have fathered Maggie in the meantime. Not if it actually happened in France, at least.”

“Yeah…” Alfred murmured, once again seeking Maggie with his eyes. A strange emptiness invaded his stomach – but there was nothing he could do about it. Francis actually being Maggie’s father would have been too nice to be real. “Yeah, I’m sure about it. I mean, Maggie is. But… I’d really ask you not to bring this up with her. It makes her uncomfortable, and since Francis is _not_ her father there’s no reason to tell Maggie this conversation happened at all.”

Much to his relief, all the others seemed to agree. Alfred was feeling more and more guilty for disclosing information about Maggie’s father, but after all, no real harm had been done and the misconception had been cleared. Dwelling over it wasn’t going to help anybody.

Shaking himself, the boy addressed again the others.

“Anybody’s up for another soccer game?”

His suggestion was met by a series of groan.

“Slow down, we were running until a couple of minutes ago!” Lovino complained, “I’m exhausted. There’s some food left, let’s sit down somewhere and eat.”

“In a bit, maybe,” Ludwig commented instead.

It sounded like a reasonable suggestion, Alfred couldn’t keep everybody moving all the time. Besides, Maggie wasn’t going to play another match.

Feliciano, Ludwig and Lovino departed from the table, heading towards a circle of chairs in a sunny part of the lawn. Most of the other teens were sitting there and chatting, while the dogs were occupied with Peter and Erland, who for once weren’t arguing.

Alfred hesitated a bit more, filling a paper plate with some cake leftovers he hadn’t tried yet. Once he was satisfied with the food, he found his eyes automatically running to Maggie’s frame. The girl was still talking with Francis, Laura, Charlotte and Michelle, they seemed to have barely moved from their spot – Alfred wanted to go to her, but he found himself frozen. What if Maggie was having fun there? After all, she had a lot of opportunities to spend time with Alfred and the other teens, while she didn’t see Laura that often, let alone Charlotte, who lived in Europe.

Alfred swallowed, forcing himself to ignore the strong impulse of going to join the conversation. It wouldn’t be the same since he didn’t know French… and Maggie looked truly relaxed, she almost seemed to be laughing.

_I can see her in another moment, after all._

And he even had the perfect opportunity, now that Hesper was back. Alfred brightened up as the idea started taking form in his mind: if he knew anything about Maggie, she was going to love it.

“You really like her, don’t you?”

Alfred gasped as he whirled towards Feliks, who was looking at him with his lips curled into an odd smile.

“Feliks! Jesus Christ man, you almost gave me a heart-attack!” he whined, in part because it was true and in part because… he didn’t truly want to answer Feliks’s question.

The boy quirked his eyebrows.

“I… I mean, how could I not like her? You like her too, don’t you?” Alfred stammered, not liking the way his stomach twisted. And _why_ was he blushing?

Feliks’s smirk only deepened.

“I don’t mean it this way and you know it…” he said in a sing-song voice before turning back and leaving Alfred to contemplate the situation.

_Do I like Maggie more than I like a normal friend?_

He loved spending time with her because they shared a lot of interests, because she listened without dismissing his enthusiasm and she always had insightful suggestions. And if Maggie was the most gorgeous girl Alfred had ever set his eyes on, well… he had only his hormones to blame for that, didn’t he?

_Fuck, I’m screwed._

* * *

 

Maggie hadn’t known that Thanksgiving could be like that. In her mind, it was either family reunion she had always heard everybody complain about, or stiff gathering among co-workers where the tepid attempt at deeper interaction couldn’t completely break the awkwardness enveloping those people who, in truth, barely knew each other. What Maggie was experiencing, however, was anything but.

Maybe it was because it was a different scenario. _“A gathering between some friends,”_ Alfred had called it. Yet, to Maggie’s eyes, it looked more like a _family_ gathering – even if quite a nonconventional one. The atmosphere was the most relaxed Maggie had ever seen in such a big group of people. Everybody seemed to sport a smile, words flowed easily from their mouths as they talked about everything and nothing, spread all over the backyard. Small groups smoothly formed and disbanded as people stopped to talk with one another, others joined them then left to get some food or because their attention had been reclaimed by something else.

And Maggie, who had been so worried about sticking out like a sore thumb, fit seamlessly inside those dynamics. And for once, it wasn’t because she was invisible – but because, even if she didn’t know everybody, she knew just enough people to comfortably play with them and then chat with the girls, she was never truly alone. Even those Maggie didn’t know had welcomed her with gentle smile and questions that weren’t too inquisitive nor too generic. They were just… normal in a way that was almost inebriating.

Rationally, Maggie knew that she didn’t belong there. A corner of her brain was constantly whispering it into her ears, making her stomach twist when the feeling grew too intense to be ignored. But the uneasiness seemed to evaporate with every smile and kind word that was directed to her. For how _wrong_ it was, Maggie was completely at ease standing in the yard, with the cold wind playing in her hair and caressing her skin. With the weight of Francis’s warm hand on her shoulder as the man answered to Laura’s question.

Maggie couldn’t even remember how the conversation had started, every moment in that had day had followed the previous ones in a dizzying rush, disorienting her. Maybe Francis had talked to her in French – and now, Laura, her younger sister Charlotte and Michelle were around them, all speaking in the same language as Charlotte complained about some issues she had had with her last flight. Michelle, who had apparently had a similar experience when she had first come to the US, was nodding along sympathetically, but a smile was tugging at the corners of her lips. She had looked a bit dejected when Maggie had first spotted her that morning, something forced in her enthusiasm, but now, the sparkle in her eyes was genuine.

The fact that they were all speaking French brought Maggie back to her childhood in Quebec, to the times she had been surrounded by melodious feminine voices as her mother chatted with her friends. Yet, they had never talked _to_ Maggie, rather _around_ her as she would diligently sit or stand next to her mother, doing her best to be as invisible and unassuming as her mother wished her to be. She had never truly _fit_ so much.

The realization sparked a pang of pain in Maggie’s chest, but she swallowed down and laughed along with the others as Charlotte concluded her story of the man who had been snoring so loudly that people from the front seat had come to check if everything was all right. Francis squeezing her shoulder grounded her.

The man’s other hand had been resting on Michelle’s shoulder since the girl had bravely confessed missing her family. There had been a smile on her lips, but the glint in her eyes spoke of longing.

Maggie found herself thinking that Francis would have made a wonderful father, it was a real pity that he didn’t have children of his own. There was Alfred, of course, and Feliciano seemed very fond of him as well, given the way he had greeted him, but it wasn’t the same. Maybe that was why he didn’t mind Maggie’s presence. Maggie couldn’t complain. With a smile, she focused back on the conversation, letting herself bask in the pleasant feeling.

The moment was broken a bit later when Abel called his sisters, making Maggie start with his harsh voice – but the man’s tone smoothened when he saw her uneasiness. His stern expression and the way his hazel eyes squinted when he scanned Maggie were intimidating, but the half-smile that barely curled his lips looked genuine.

Charlotte and Laura started chatting with him and Francis’s attention was claimed by Antonio, leaving Maggie and Michelle free – but rather than a break, it was a smooth transition to the table to refill their glasses and then walk to the other teens instead of the adults. Maggie had never seen a gathering where every piece seemed to fit so perfectly and with such a relaxed ease – but it wasn’t the place or the structure. It was the people who were there. Maggie didn’t know how she could be so blessed to stay in their presence – but there she was. Feeling guilty would just be _ungrateful_.

Most of the other teens were in a circle, playing with a ball. Maggie’s stomach twisted as the realization of how much she had neglected the people who had actually invited her in the first place dawned on her – but when Alfred stopped the ball instead of throwing it back, she knew that it had been for the best.

The boy immediately left the circle and walked towards the girls, his eyes so bright and the smile lighting his face so genuine that Maggie’s heart skipped a beat. She would have wanted nothing more than playing with Alfred, but the football match from earlier had left her almost dizzy and with her legs weak. Running was out of the question, unless she wanted to worry some other people.

Alfred, instead, didn’t even look out of breath, the only indication that he had been essentially running around since mid-morning were his flushed cheeks. For how much Maggie loved spending time with him, she didn’t want Alfred to give up his activities for her.

“Hey, are you two having fun?” the boy asked as he moved closer, beaming at Maggie and Michelle.

Michelle was the first to answer, enthusiasm seeping through her voice as she talked about how glad she was to have been invited.

It was only after she had finished talking – with a couple of rebuttals from Alfred – that the boy specifically addressed Maggie.

“And you? Are you glad you came?”

Maggie’s lips curled into an earnest smile as she nodded.

“This is the best Thanksgiving party I’ve ever been to.”

She shouldn’t have been happy, but she was. And the way Alfred’s beaming smile tugged at her chest wasn’t unpleasant.

The three of them headed towards some armchairs near the food tables, where they were soon followed by Feliks and Tolys, who had joined the party after having lunch with their families.

The rest of the afternoon was spent in a pleasant chatter as the sun lowered to the horizon and the temperatures slowly dropped. Hours later, when the last rays of the setting sun were too weak to offer shelter from the cold bite of the wind that made everybody run for coats and scarves as they shivered, people started leaving.

Arthur eventually came to fetch Alfred and Maggie, but it was still some time before they left because they helped Gilbert and Ludwig tidy the kitchen. When they finally headed towards the car, the sky was dark and exhaustion had settled into Maggie’s bones, but a smile was pressed to her lips.

Alfred wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“You look cold,” he offered as an excuse when Maggie stiffened for a moment, taken out of surprise, yet he was the one shivering.

_Always the prince charming._

The smile on Maggie’s lips grew wider as she snuggled closer to Alfred’s side. In spite of the coat, the boy’s body was firm and solid against her. Heat rose to Maggie’s cheeks at the thought of the muscles hidden under layers of fabric.

_Hugs are normal for Al. And he’s cold._

It sounded like a flimsy excuse, yet she didn’t move away.

“Do you think you’ll be free on Saturday?”

The question took Maggie out of guard.

“I think so,” she answered after a quick mental math, “Steve spends most of his time with Claudia in the weekend. And even if he were home, I can tell him I have a group project for school, he wouldn’t check. Why?”

Alfred’s lips curled into a slight smile in the dim light.

“Let’s meet at the library after lunch. I can’t tell you more, it’s a surprise.”

Maggie should have refused. Everything in her mind screamed so, yet it couldn’t trump the warmth in her chest. She just _didn’t want_ to.

“Okay.”

The fact that the whispered word only brought relief to her made thing even worse, but when Francis flashed her a knowing smile as he ushered the two teens into the car, she couldn’t regret it.

_This probably makes me a horrible person, doesn’t it?_

And in spite of that knowledge, Maggie wasn’t going to say no.

* * *

 

At the end of the day, Arthur couldn’t deny that he felt the most relaxed he had been in a while. Even the headache almost constantly lingering behind his forehead was gone, and the bone-deep weariness pervading his heavy limbs wasn’t unpleasant. Instead of irritating him, other people endless chatter had drowned out his worries. For how much Arthur appreciated silence, he couldn’t deny that, from time to time, mingling with others was pleasant.

He has also spotted Michelle chatting with Lovino, and after that, the girl had looked considerably more relaxed, the spring in her steps genuine. Arthur hadn’t talked to her in person, he didn’t think it would have been appropriate, but the dazzling smile the girl had offered him any time their eyes had met had made the knot in chest ease. The awkwardness of the entire situation still made Arthur’s skin prickle when he thought about it, but he had made the right choice, at least for once.

 _‘It was probably nothing more than a momentary respite,’_ a treacherous voice in a corner of his brain whispered.

Arthur tuned it down, trying to convince himself that it was still better than nothing. He wished he knew if Michelle had spoken to her parents, but the question was too personal. There was nothing more he could do.

Shaking his head, Arthur brought his attention back to present, his eyes automatically running to the rear mirror.

Alfred was chatting with Francis – Arthur suddenly realized that he had tuned him out. The lively shine in the boy’s eyes made a slight smile blossom on Arthur’s lips. He hadn’t expected anything different, but having a further proof that Alfred had spent a pleasant afternoon lifted a weight from his chest.

Next to the boy, Maggie was sitting quietly, a small smile curling her lips and her head slightly turned towards Alfred. Her eyelids were drooping in exhaustion, but her posture was the most relaxed Arthur had ever seen, there wasn’t a single hint of tension in the way she leaned against the seat. Maybe it was just weariness. Arthur still hoped that it meant she was feeling more comfortable.

When they finally stopped at her house, Maggie looked on the verge of sleep. Arthur pretended not to notice the way Francis’s hand lingered on her shoulder, how it clenched into a fist as he watched the girl walk to her house.

_She’s not your daughter, Francis._

Francis had always been too quick in becoming fond of strays, Arthur knew it. He was going to be hurt, yet Arthur couldn’t condemn or warn him: Maggie needed him, and, unlike Francis, she was a child. Francis was just going to have to endure.

_Francis would make a wonderful father._

Arthur bit back the thought as he started the car again, this time, headed home. The thought of a warm bed almost elicited a sigh from his lips, that would have been the perfect conclusion to a pleasant day.

Arthur managed to delude himself until they got into the house and he automatically fetched the phone from the pocket of his coat.

The blood suddenly ran cold in his veins as Arthur’s eyes focused on the screen.

_2 messages and 10 missed calls._

Arthur’s mind screamed in revulsion. His finger tapped on the screen right above his brother’s name, knowing that there was no escape.

**_<_ ** _Oi, are you ignoring me? I have been trying to call the entire day. You could answer the phone, at least._

Arthur kept staring at the words, his stomach churning, until Alfred’s voice brought him back to reality.

“Dad? What’s up?”

Arthur realized that his free hand was clenched into a fist.

“Nothing important,” he lied smoothly, forcing his body to assume a relaxed stance. “But Alistair can’t get the hint.”

The smile vanished from Alfred’s face, his features tightened.

“What does he want? You’re not going to answer him, are you? It’s late, you can just call him tomorrow. Isn’t it even night in Scotland?”

Arthur couldn’t ignore the warmth that Alfred’s rage brought to his chest – but it shouldn’t have been a concern of his. Arthur forced his lips to curl into a well-practised fake smile.

“It’s early morning, and Alistair must be awake since he tried to call a couple of minutes ago… I guess I _could_ just ignore him, but then I would never hear the end of it. As tempting as it may seem, I cannot just go on ignoring him for the foreseeable future. I’ll just give him a call now and then I’ll be done with it. Just go to bed, Alfred. Good night.”

Arthur swiftly walked into his office and closed the door behind his shoulders, refusing to leave Alfred the time to reply.

His hands were almost trembling.

_Goddamnit Arthur, stop being a pussy. It’s just a phone call._

Arthur’s heart rate only increased along with the churning of his stomach as his fingers composed the number.

Alistair answered after three rings that seemed to expand into the eternity.

“Ah Artie, there you are.” Alistair’s voice was tinged with annoyance, making a spark of anger blossom in Arthur’s chest. “I was thinking you were going to ignore me forever at this point.”

Arthur couldn’t stand how self-conceited his brother always sounded. There _was_ a reason he didn’t like talking to him, as he was painfully reminded every time.

“Well, I have my own life,” he snapped. “It was a busy day, I’m not just here to answer every snap of your fingers like a dog.”

Alistair snorted at the other end of the line.

“Wow, somebody’s in a good mood. Geez, Artie, would it kill you to be civil for once? I just wanted to ask how my youngest brother was doing…”

_No, you didn’t._

Alistair rarely called without a specific reason, and they both knew that. Arthur still forced himself to listen as his brother prattled on and on about their family, using every inch of his will to keep his breathing even. He only grunted as Alistair told him about how his daughter Ainsley wanted to leave her mother to live on her own but refused to set a single foot outside of Scotland, how Jessica had a new boyfriend and she was religiously following the most recent fad diet without dropping a single pound… Technically, both girls were Arthur’s nieces, but they were indifferent to him, part of a life he wanted to have nothing to do with. If anything, he pitied them.

Finally, much to Arthur’s relief, Alistair started enquiring about him and Alfred, letting the man able to catch his breath again. Those were innocent questions, he could almost pretend that there was nothing wrong with them.

Arthur had almost relaxed completely when a catch in Alistair’s voice made him stiffen.

_Ah, here it comes. Finally, the real reason behind this call._

When Alistair spoke again, his voice was forcefully pleasant.

“You know, Mum has been asking about Alfred.”

The breath was caught in Arthur’s lungs, his entire body froze. His brain screamed in revulsion, but no word went past his lips. Alistair kept talking.

“It has happened more and more frequently, lately. You know… I really think she would like to meet him.”

The words slammed against Artur like a physical punch, the blood pulsed in his ears.

“No,” he hissed, “Are you out of your mind?”

Alistair sighed.

“Well… I know how it looks like.” His voice was as sweet as honey. _Fake_. Arthur’s heartbeat quickened, his stomach twisted. “But you see… he is her grandson, after all. I think that-”

“Her grandson that she _wanted to kill!”_ Arthur spat against gritted teeth, tightening his hold on the phone.

He wanted to throw it against the wall. Or preferably, against Alistair’s face.

That fool brother of his didn’t get the hint. Instead, he breathed out in frustration before resuming his talk.

“People change, Artie. Listen, I know that what she did was despicable. I know. But Artie…”

Alistair was talking in a condescending tone. Almost as if _Arthur_ was the unreasonable one. Rage surged in Arthur’s chest, numbing all his senses.

“There is no but, you damn wanker. This is what it is, and you’d better face it: Mother is a cruel hag who has always cared about appearances more than her own children. You’re a bloody fool to believe otherwise.  She has never cared about Alfred or Amelia, and she never will. And even if age had turned her to some form of sentimentalism, it would still be self-serving. And I am never, ever letting her set a single finger on Alfred, do you hear me? She has ruined my life. She will _not_ have my child!”

Arthur slammed the call closed before Alistair could reply, and immediately turned off the phone. He was shaking with adrenaline, his breath coming out in quick pants.

_Fuck you, Alistair. Fuck you and Mother and Father and the entire bloody England, now that we’re at it!_

A wave of exhaustion washed over Arthur when his frantic heartbeat finally calmed down, making his head spin, but he didn’t regret a single word he had said.

Sighing, the man shuffled out of the room, ready to sink into his bed. He wasn’t sure he would manage to get some sleep, the mere thought of Alfred in his mother’s hands made his stomach twist.

In spite of that, a treacherous corner of his mind kept contemplating Alistair’s words.

_What if she truly…_

“Dad?”

Alfred’s voice made Arthur start as he noticed for the first time the tall figure who was leaning against the wall of the corridor, hidden by the shadows.

“Bloody hell, Alfred! Did you want to give me a heart-attack?” he protested, automatically bringing a hand to his chest.

Alfred didn’t answer the question, nor did he laugh.

“What did Uncle Ali want?” he asked instead, his features grave.

Something twisted inside Arthur’s chest.

“Nothing,” he lied smoothly, “He just wanted to talk a bit. But you should be sleeping, poppet. What are you doing still awake?”

“I just wanted to check if you were okay. You’re always so shaken after you talk to Alistair…”

Alfred’s voice sounded so earnest… _just like Amelia’s_. He was still so innocent, so pure. Untouched by the cruelty Arthur knew so well.

_Well, at least I did one thing right._

“It’s not my favourite pastime, that’s for sure. But it’s nothing I can’t handle. Go to bed now, you have been running around the entire day. You must be exhausted.”

Alfred took a deep breath, hesitating as if he wanted to say something – but then, a yawn bubbled up his throat. His shoulders drooped.

“Goodnight, then,” Alfred murmured as he turned away to shuffle to his room.

Once at the door, the boy lingered for a moment before getting in.

“I love you, Dad,” he murmured, then the door closed behind him.

Arthur stood frozen for a moment, his eyes fixed on the door. He hadn’t been expecting that… but he should have, from Alfred. He was probably going to grow out of it, but the boy’s willingness to express his fondness was something Arthur was going to miss.

Arthur clenched his fists and took a deep breath, straightening up. His family had already ruined him, but he wasn’t letting that happen to his son. No matter what, Alfred wasn’t going to have anything to do with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alistair is Scotland  
> Michelle is Seychelles  
> Laura is Belgium  
> Mikkel is Denmark  
> Erika is Liechtenstein  
> Abel is The Netherland  
> Charlotte is Nyo!Luxembourg (using the Nyo version because I wanted some more girls)  
> Erland is Ladonia  
> Ainsley and Jessica are both OCs (I mean, technically Ainsley would be Nyo!Scotland in my mind, but this doesn't make her any less of an OC actually...). Ainsley is Alistair's daughter and Jessica is another niece of Arthur's, Dylan's eldest daughter (and Dylan would be Wales).
> 
> I didn't make a mistake with the timeline. While Ludwig is only one grade above Alfred, he's actually 2 years older because he was born in October and the birthday cut-off in their school is September 1st. So, Ludwig was around 1 year old around the time a child who would be born the same July as Alfred was conceived. The rest will be explained in due time.
> 
> Next chapter should be a bit more eventful. I don’t know when it will be up because of many reasons, but I’ll do my best.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this, in the meantime! And hearing from you would truly mean a lot :)


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for taking so long. But, I finally managed to write this chapter, even if it was quite hard :)  
> And I could never thank you enough for your lovely words and your support, you guys are absolutely amazing!
> 
>  **Warnings : This chapter is going to include some violence.** I don’t think it’s graphic, but keep this in mind if it might bother you.  
> English isn’t my first language, I apologize for the mistakes or oddly-phrased sentences.
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you’ll enjoy this chapter! Please review :)

_“Meet me after lunch at the library – it’s a surprise.”_

The words kept echoing in Maggie’s ears, making her heart beat more and more wildly as the designed hour approached. Rationally, the girl knew that she shouldn’t be nervous, it was hardly the first time she went somewhere with Alfred, only the two of them. Yet, there was something in the way he had said that – in the _intimacy_ his wink had conveyed – that was making her stomach twist with a feeling that Maggie didn’t want to explore fully.

The bus stopped, the squeak of the door opening made Maggie’s heart leap into her throat.

The girl took a deep breath as she stepped out, clenching her fists to steady herself.

The library stood in front of her, just on the other side of the road. It was a tall, imposing building of grey stone, styled to resemble older European constructions. Its austere columns and clean front conveyed a sternness and formality that were in perfect harmony with the building’s purpose. For once, however, its sight only made anxiety blossom in Maggie’s chest.

_What does Al want to do?_

It surely wasn’t anything bad, the boy would never suggest something aimed at making Maggie uncomfortable. In spite of how much she kept telling herself that, the girl couldn’t make herself at ease with the idea of missing a variable. The fact that showing any of her reluctance to Alfred would be utterly ungrateful wasn’t helping with the churning of her stomach.

Maggie forced herself to take a deep breath and squared her shoulders before moving to cross the street. Her legs felt oddly weak.

The girl had just started climbing the stairs when a hand descended her right shoulder. She gasped as she whirled around, instinctively raising her hands, only to find herself in front of Alfred’s beaming face.

“Wow, we arrived exactly at the same time!” the boy commented loudly, stepping to her side. “We would have never managed if we had tried…”

Maggie’s heart was beating wildly from both the anxiety and the scare, but she managed to force her lips into a smile in front of Alfred’s enthusiasm. The boy was probably trying to look collected, but the bounce in his gait betrayed him.

“Yeah…” Maggie murmured, lowering her hands. “So, why did you…”

Alfred winked.

“You’ll see. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Maggie fell into step behind him as Alfred climbed the stairs and opened the heavy glass door to let the girl into the library. The familiar smell of paper and books assaulted Maggie’s nostrils, but she only registered it in a corner of her mind.

_What has Alfred planned?_

The smile hadn’t slipped from the boy’s face, but there was a slight tension in his shoulders that Maggie had rarely seen. He looked almost nervous, yet his smile widened when his eyes met Maggie’s. The girl could have almost ignored it… Alfred looked happy, but there was something slightly wrong.

Maggie was debating whether she should bring it up or not when Helena, the head-librarian and an acquaintance of Arthur’s, appeared behind the counter, sweeping her dark brown curls away from her face.

“Maggie, Alfred,” she greeted the two teens, a glint in her brown eyes. “I assume you’re here for Hesper, aren’t you? She’s always in the same place, Alfred, you know where to go.”

Before Maggie could voice out her perplexity, Alfred gently grabbed her arm, signalling the girl to follow him. Since Helena looked busy, Maggie simply waved her goodbye before walking after Alfred to a corner of the library she had never seen before.

“Hesper is her daughter,” Alfred answered to the unspoken question as Maggie turned her head towards him. “She’s eighteen and she finished high school last year. Since she didn’t know what to do, she decided to take a gap year and stayed for a couple of months with her grandparents in Greece. But now she’s back, and she has a… peculiar project here inside the library. You’ll see.”

Maggie nodded, offering Alfred a weak smile. Her mouth was dry, which was truly stupid: the surprise Alfred had planned surely wasn’t meant to hurt her, there wasn’t a single reason she should be so scared.

After some turns, Alfred and Maggie walked to what looked like an unused wing of the library and finally stopped in front of a door that opened in the exact same moment. The lanky frame of a girl stepped out.

“Hey, Hesper!” Alfred immediately greeted her.

The girl raised her head and finally walked completely out of the door and into the light, blinking. Maggie could immediately see that she was Helena’s daughter: they had the same bronze-hued skin and a similar facial structure, oval, with a long, straight nose and high cheekbones, yet Hesper’s lips were slimmer and her face slimmer and more angular just like her entire body was. Her hair was the same dark brown as her mother’s but straighter, and it fell flat and messy down to her shoulder-blades as if she hadn’t bothered to brush it. The way Hesper was dressed – a pair of light brown loose trousers under a baggy green sweater – didn’t give the impression that she cared much about her appearance, either. Her olive-green eyes stared at Alfred and Maggie with a strange dazed look.

What caught Maggie’s attention immediately after, however, was the calico cat held gently in the girl’s bony arms.

“Hello, Alfred,” Hesper said in the end, her eyes darting from Alfred to Maggie. “And you’re Maggie. Alfred told me he was going to bring you as well.”

Maggie stretched her lips into a smile, forcing herself to ignore the way her mouth felt dry at the thought of introducing herself to a new person, but Hesper simply offered her a nod.

“I have some errands to run, I don’t think I’ll be back until this evening. You two can stay as much as you’d like, when you want to go away just go tell my mother and she’ll lock the door.”

The girl didn’t offer them any other word before sauntering away, her arms tightening when the cat tried to wriggle free.

“Come on,” said Alfred, grabbing Maggie’s arm to lead her inside the door.

The girl threw a last timid glance at Hesper before following Alfred downstairs, trying to ignore the way her stomach tightened. Hesper had hardly greeted her…

_‘Did I do something wrong? Something that made her dislike me?’_

“Oh, and don’t worry about Hesper,” Alfred declared, as if he had read into her mind. “She doesn’t have anything against you, she was probably just thinking about something else. It’s just the way she is, don’t take it personally.”

His words loosened a bit the grip around Maggie’s chest. Maybe they had been only to reassure her, but Alfred was usually honest about that sort of things – and that was without counting the warmth that his attention made Maggie feel.

“You’d just better worry about the stairs now,” Alfred went on, “I could catch you, there’s no doubt here, but… let’s not test it, ‘kay?”

Maggie reciprocated with a small smile the grin the boy was offering her before focusing her eyes on the stairs – that looked quite steep and ruined in some places as if they hadn’t been renovated in a long time. The situation wasn’t helped by the dim lighting, that in spite of hiding the stairs still left some cracks in the plaster visible.

_Where are we going?_

Alfred looked confident in front of her, his shoulders squared as his feet hit the steps. He didn’t even need to pay attention, he was clearly familiar with the place.

“No chance of you telling me what’s going on?” Maggie asked, even if she already knew the answer.

Alfred’s cheerful _“Nope!”_ wasn’t unexpected, but before Maggie could come up with a different way to formulate the question, her ears suddenly caught a faint noise that made her stop in her tracks.

“Is that…”

Alfred turned to her, a grin tugging at his lips and his eyes sparkling behind the glasses.

“Whatever you guessed, you don’t know the half of it. Come on, just follow me. You’ll love it, I promise!”

Maggie followed after the boy, her ears straining to analyse the noise as a small smile blossomed on her lips. She was quite sure that she wasn’t wrong, and given the way Hesper had exited the room…

Finally, the stairs ended in front of a door that Alfred confidently opened.

“You go first,” he declared with a grand gesture of his hand, the anticipation clearly written in his features and high-strung posture.

Maggie smiled back as she stepped in, only to immediately halt as she took in the sight in front of her eyes.

“Whoa!”

“Surprise!” Alfred said in a sing-song voice behind her, “Are you sufficiently impressed?”

Maggie surely was.

She had already identified the sound as mewling, but she hadn’t been expecting _that_. The room itself was quite basic, just a squared carpeted room with two old-looking sofas against one wall, pillows and poufs all over the floor, a big television screen hanging on the wall opposite to the sofas and an old wooden library shelf containing some comics and DVDs – what made it incredible, however, were the cats.

There were cats everywhere, small cats, big cats, cats on the sofa, kittens playing around the floor, a huge striped cat resting at the top of the library… Maggie’s head was almost spinning.

Her trance was broken only when a medium-sized brown cat claimed her attention by snuggling against her ankles, mewling.

Maggie automatically bent down to rub its soft fur as her head turned, her eyes searching Alfred’s ones.

“How…?”

The boy’s lips were stretched into a satisfied smirk. He knelt down next to Maggie before answering, his hands confidently stroking a grey cat’s fur.

“Hesper loves cats,” he explained, “Since this part of the library isn’t used, she has decided to turn it into a sort of shelter. Some of these cats live here, others come and go… but Hesper always makes sure to have food and a warm place for all of them. And well, since she had it here, she also decided to equip it with a TV, some comics and books, so people can come down here and keep the cats some company if they want to. Not everybody, obviously, you need to know Hesper or Helena, but it’s still cool, isn’t it? I mean, you like animals. I figured you’d like it.”

Another cat, slightly bigger than the first one and with a white fur adorned by some black spots, had joined the first one at Maggie’s legs. Mewling, it pressed its soft head against the girl’s palm. Maggie smiled at the sensation.

“Yes, it’s incredible. I didn’t even know such a place existed…”

“Told you you’d like it,” Alfred simply replied, his lips curled into a soft smile as other cats claimed his attention.

He clearly liked the place as well, and he had chosen to share it with Maggie. The girl was suddenly overwhelmed by a strong impulse to hug him, she barely restrained herself, her muscles stiffening.

For some moments, the two teens just stayed silent, their attention completely engrossed in the cats.

“Well, we could do something as well,” Alfred said in the end as he straightened up, wiping his hands against his jeans. “We could watch a movie, for example. The cats won’t mind.”

Even before Maggie could give an assent, the boy had already moved towards the library to sort through some DVDs.

“Oh, cool, Hesper brought down some different stuff!” he commented as his fingers lingered on the back of some cases. “There were other movies the last time… But oh, she took away all the Marvel titles. Damn… It looks like all historical stuff here. And most are really old. Uh, wanna choose?”

“Oh, anything is fine with me,” Maggie reassured him earnestly as she walked closer, followed by three cats purring around her ankles.

Being with Alfred was already more than she could have asked for, but the boy almost pouted at her answer.

“Come on, just choose something! I like basically everything, I swear.”

“Oh… okay. Thank you,” Maggie found herself answering, not knowing how to refuse the boy’s offer without upsetting him.

Her eyes swept over the titles as she tried to decide what Alfred would enjoy, but, as the boy had remarked, there weren’t superheroes or adventure movies in sight. Most titles looked pretty old, Maggie wasn’t familiar with them.

“I guess we could go up and ask Helena to bring something else if there isn’t anything you like,” Alfred mused. “I mean, Hesper used to change the movies almost every week so it shouldn’t be a big deal…”

Helena, however, had looked quite busy the last time Maggie had seen her. She certainly didn’t want to bother the woman on her account…

“This one looks interesting,” the girl decided as her eyes fell on a title that looked familiar.

_The Village._

“Some classmates of mine had talked about it, a couple of years ago. They said they liked it, I was curious to see it.”

They hadn’t been talking to Maggie, she had merely happened to hear that because she had been present as well, but Alfred didn’t need to know.

“Okay, cool!” The boy beamed at Maggie. “I had never heard about it, but it sounds fine!”

“You didn’t even read the summary,” Maggie remarked, frowning. “How do you know…”

“I said that I was going to let you choose, didn’t I?”

Without leaving Maggie any time to retort, Alfred tore the DVD case from her hands and headed towards the TV.

“Al, are you really…”

The smile that the boy offered her as he turned made the grip clenching Maggie’s chest loosen in spite of herself. There was nothing but genuine kindness in the boy’s eyes.

_What did I do, to deserve this?_

Maggie didn’t know, but she bit back any other protest and she settled against a pouf. Two cats immediately jumped on her lap, purring as if they hadn’t been expected anything else. The wide, complicit smile Alfred offered her stole the breath away from her lungs – yet, it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. The boy settled down next to her as the starting credits rolled, close enough that Maggie could feel the warmth of his thigh against hers. The thought made her heart race, but she didn’t move away, nor did she protest when Alfred casually wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She could feel her cheeks heating up, but luckily, the room was dark.

_This is just Al. Al likes physical contact, that’s just how he is._

It wasn’t wrong, but Maggie refused to analyse _why_ her own stomach flipped at the thought and she resolutely focused her attention on the movie.

It was easier than she would have thought. Her old classmates had been right, the movie was quite interesting, vaguely creepy and mysterious in a way that kept Maggie on the edge of her seat. The warm cat in her lap, that the girl was absent-mindedly stroking, was an added bonus.

Maggie was so engrossed in the movie that a sudden, high-pitched squeal at a scary scene make her jump out of her skin.

“Al?” she asked automatically as her heart missed a beat.

“Sorry! I’m fine!” the boy answered in a high-pitched voice.

The way he was lying was as clear as daylight, making Maggie’s stomach knot for not realizing it sooner. With an incredible display of self-restraint, the boy had managed to keep the arm around Maggie’s shoulders lax, but the rest of his body was rigid with tension and his eyes were huge on his face, that looked incredibly pale in the dim lighting of the TV.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Maggie gasped, panic tightening the walls of her throat as her mind frantically ran through old conversations, trying to recall whether Alfred had ever given any indication of being weak to creepy movies. She didn’t find any, but that didn’t make her feel any better: she should have asked, at least.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t like this sort of movies…” she started immediately muttering as she took the remote to pause the movie.

A hysterical, high-pitched giggle seeped through Alfred’s lips.

“What? Where did you take this from? Movies don’t bother me at all, it was just… I was startled for a moment because the kitty here tried to scratch me, it’s nothing!”

The boy’s right hand was clutching said cat so tightly that it almost looked like it was going to suffocate.

“Al… maybe you should just… let the cat go?” Maggie suggested softly, her stomach clenching. She had never seen Alfred like that. Even worse, it was her fault.

The boy blinked for a moment, a quizzical expression on his face as he turned to the cat. His eyes widened in realization, and he finally loosened his hold. The cat darted away, mewling in indignation.

“And… maybe we should really watch something else?” Maggie said tentatively.

Even before she had finished formulating the sentence, the girl knew that it was a lost battle. Alfred’s features tightened in determination as he took a deep breath.

“I’m not scared. This movie isn’t even so scary! And Heroes aren’t afraid of movies. I- I’m not afraid, that would be stupid.”

 _‘It would not,’_ Maggie wanted to retort, but Alfred’s fists were tightened and his back rigid.

_A matter of pride._

A _stupid_ matter of pride, Alfred wouldn’t lose anything by showing himself vulnerable in front of Maggie, but changing his mind wouldn’t be easy.

“Okay, then,” the girl declared softly.

She had created that mess, now it was up to her to put remedy to it. Without remarking on anything else, the girl restarted the movie. She took a deep breath to give herself courage and snuggled closer to Alfred’s warm side.

The boy stiffened, and for a moment Maggie thought that she had made a mistake and he would push her away – but Alfred almost collapsed against her instead, clenching his hold around her shoulders. His heart was beating wildly against his own and Maggie’s ribs.

“It _is_ a bit scary,” the girl conceded some minutes later, letting Alfred adjust his grip around her shoulders as she petted a cat with the other hand.

“I’ll hold you,” Alfred declared.

Unnecessarily, since he already had Maggie in a death grip, but the sense of purpose seemed to calm him down a bit. The rest of the movies was punctuated by gasps and high-pitched screeches, and by the end, Maggie was sure that her shoulder was bruised from Alfred’s grip.

When she turned on the light, the boy’s face was glistening with sweat.

“It didn’t even end badly, it was cool!” he declared, but his words were betrayed by the still panicked glint in his eyes.

“Uhm, do you want to stay a bit more to play with the kitties?”

Maggie would have loved to, but a weight sank in her stomach as Alfred almost jumped when a cat snuggled against his ankle. She hadn’t realized it earlier, but, being underground, the room was dimly lit, the old light bulbs creating ominous shadows at the corners. It _could_ be taken as a creepy environment.

Alfred certainly did, given how jumpy he was, his still widened eyes roaming all over the room.

“Why don’t we have a walk in the park?” the girl asked, taking courage. “Soon, it will start getting dark too early to do that, we should take advantage of the sun as long as we still have it.”

Alfred was far too quick to agree. The grateful smile he flashed Maggie made her chest tighten – with her carelessness, she had ruined his entire afternoon. _Why_ couldn’t she be more careful?

Silently, the girl followed Alfred upstairs and forced her lips into a smile to say goodbye to Helena, but her stomach was completely knotted.

She had had a wonderful opportunity only to completely ruin it with her carelessness… Alfred was never going to invite her out again, after that. The thought was a stab to Maggie’s chest.

She lowered her head, clenching her fists to prevent herself from crying.

Alfred was rambling about how much he would have understood the ruse before the movie characters and inserting comments on how such closed communities still existed yet he couldn’t believe that people would completely not come in contact with technology – yet, all Maggie could focus on was how his steps were still jittery, how he kept sending glances behind his shoulders as if afraid that something might jump at him from the dark.

Maggie’s lungs were tight at the thought of being the cause of _that_. And since she was always so horribly self-absorbed, the girl didn’t realize that she had been answering less than she should have until Alfred turned to face her, his normally vibrant features set in determination.

“Okay, Maggie, I’m really sorry.”

His words took the girl out of surprise, making her halt and her eyes widen.

“What? There’s nothing…”

Alfred sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Ah, and you’re always so impossibly nice…” he shook his head. “I’ll admit it: I really don’t do well with horror movies, okay? And that wasn’t even a real horror movie, but I just… I don’t really like them. I wanted you to have a pleasant afternoon, instead, I… ruined everything. I’m so sorry.”

Such a disheartened expression didn’t fit Alfred’s features, his eyes were so earnest and open that the sight brought a stab of pain to Maggie’s chest.

“But that’s not your fault!” she answered, automatically laying a hand on the boy’s arm. “I… I should have thought about it, too. I mean, I didn’t really know the movie but I knew it was supposed to be a bit scary, I should have checked with you first.”

“I wouldn’t have told you. I said you could choose the movie…”

Alfred wasn’t supposed to look so desperate, it was against the laws of nature.

“You should have.” Maggie looked straight at Alfred’s eyes, trying to convey her sincerity. “There’s nothing bad in being scared. But, never mind this… You didn’t ruin the afternoon. I still had fun. I loved the place, and we can still have a walk around, can’t we? We can still go back there another time and watch an animation movie or something like that. Something lighter.”

Maggie hoped that Alfred couldn’t read the desperation in her voice. That would have been the perfect opportunity to let him go… but she _couldn’t_. The mere thought made her physically sick, tightening the walls of her throat and making her stomach churn.

Instead, like a small miracle, Alfred’s lips curled into a small, tentative smile.

“So, you wouldn’t be opposed to going out again…?”

The hopeful glint in his eyes wasn’t something Maggie could understand, yet, it was unmistakable.

“Of course not! I… I mean, of course I wouldn’t mind doing that again…”

Maggie’s heartbeat quickened as she uttered those words, making the heat rise to her cheeks.

The beaming smile Alfred offered her afterwards and the way his eyes were almost sparkling didn’t help.

“Oh, that’s so cool. Another movie next time, though.” A still mildly hysterical giggle seeped thought his lips, but as Alfred resumed walking his stance was once again relaxed. “I don’t know how you do it, though… Let me tell you, that thing was spooky. Especially until they discovered that everything was fake, but even after… and you barely reacted. Like, wow…”

Maggie bit her lower lip as a strange, cold hollowness spread into her chest.

_Because it’s fake, and this makes it irrelevant. Monsters in the night might be scary, but you know what’s really scary? Coming back home to the smell of alcohol, not knowing if your step-father is passed-out or still awake. The wood creaking under your bare feet and the sinking feeling that he might have heard you. Having to measure every single word that goes past your lips because you’re going to screw up, you know that you are at one point, and then there’ll be no mercy for you. The constant uncertainty. Fists against flesh. This is far scarier, because it’s real._

But Maggie couldn’t possibly tell that to Alfred. She clenched her fists to chase away the unpleasant sensation and summoned a small smile to her lips.

“Well, Mama used to tell me a lot of creepy stories when I was a kid, and she didn’t really control what I was watching on TV. I didn’t really mean to, but I stumbled across a lot of stuff I was probably too young to see. I must have grown desensitized to it, I guess.”

Alfred laughed, shaking his head.

“Oh yeah, I guess it makes sense. Well, uh, sorry for the freak-out then. I just didn’t want to ruin this day for you.”

That consideration was completely like Alfred, the way he cared for Maggie’s mood made even the last tendrils of cold disappear, replacing them with a pleasant warmth.

That hesitance, however, wasn’t like him at all. Maggie would have expected him to be able to shake off something like that more easily.

Maggie held her breath, stiffening.

_It’s not my business._

But Alfred was her friend. She cared for him more than she could have ever imagined. And if he was going through something… Maggie realized that the last thing she wanted was leaving him alone when she had noticed that there was something wrong.

The girl took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. Then, she spoke.

* * *

 

“Al, is… is everything all right?”

Alfred offered Maggie a blinding smile.

“Yeah, of course! I’m perfectly fine. I might be a scaredy-cat, I’ll give you that, but it’s not that bad! We’re out in the light, and the movie wasn’t even actually that bad!”

That might have been a bit of a lie, but Alfred hoped that he would be able to hide how each sound sent the heart racing in his chest. His afternoon had already been enough of a failure as it was… nothing like the fun date he had imagined. Not checking the movie had been a mistake on his part. Alfred had just wanted to let Maggie choose something for once, but he should still have been smarter.

Maggie, however, didn’t look convinced. The girl took a deep breath and chewed on her lower lip the way she did before doing something that took a lot out of her, her arms were rigid and her fists clenched.

“This isn’t what I was talking about,” she said, apologizing with her eyes. “You just… looked a bit down today. And I… You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, but… I just wanted to make sure that you were alright. You can always talk to me, if you want.”

Alfred knew that he could. The thought made his chest ache along with the gloomy thoughts he had tried to ban for the last couple of days.

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing big,” he declared firmly, because he knew that Maggie would have seen right through a real lie. “We should just have fun, okay? I’ve already ruined this afternoon enough as it is. Focusing on bad things isn’t going to do anything.”

Maggie stared at him, her forehead slightly creased in determination.

“I know…” she murmured.

She lowered her head and wrapped her arms around herself, but a moment later her lilac eyes were high again, reading right through Alfred.

“And I admire you a lot for this, Al. Believe me, I truly do. But… If there is something wrong, something that is hurting you… you’re strong, but you cannot hold everything inside forever. There is a difference between not being always negative and venting from time to time.”

Troubling Maggie was the last thing Alfred wanted, he had already vented to her before… and she had listened. Alfred couldn’t deny the truth in her words. He tried not focus on his issues because he had it easier than many friends of his, Ludwig didn’t even remember his parents and Feliciano always looked fidgety and nervous when somebody mentioned difficult family situations. Alfred just didn’t want to make the situation heavier than it was, after all, there were many positive things in his life he could focus on.

But Maggie was right: that didn’t make the problems automatically go away.

“You won’t ruin my afternoon,” the girl declared, her voice much firmer than it often was. “Actually, it would be more ruined if I knew there was something wrong with you.”

Once again, her eyes were apologetic. The girl visibly swallowed. That admission had taken a lot of her, yet she had done it. For him. Maggie was braver than she gave herself credit for.

Alfred ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

“It’s about Dad,” he admitted. “He just… Uncle Alistair called a couple of days ago. And it shook him, I know it did. He almost looked like he couldn’t breathe, he scared me. And this happens every time. But… but Dad refuses to tell me anything.”

Alfred had tried. He had tried that night right after the phone call, but he had been tired and he had given up. He had also tried the following day, however, and his questions had been met with a wall of forced calm and lies and an impenetrable stare from his father. And with time, Alfred’s concern had started mounting into anger clawing at his chest.

“…because he doesn’t trust me, you see?! He treats me as if I were still a child. But I’m not! I’m almost an adult now, and if something troubles Dad so much, I have the right to know it, to help! He’s so fucking stubborn that sometimes I can’t stand him. He just… He keeps bottling everything inside and refusing to tell me anything, but it’s killing him from the inside! Why doesn’t he let me help? I just…”

When Maggie hesitantly laid a hand on his arm, Alfred realized that he had been almost yelling. His hands were trembling, his throat closed off by a big lump. The boy lowered his head and forced himself to take a deep breath.

For a moment, he and Maggie stood silent, listening to the birds chirping and the leaves rustling around them.

“I think that your father just wants to protect you,” Maggie said in the end, in a quiet whisper.

Alfred opened his mouth to reply, a spark of anger resurfacing, but Maggie’s intense stare kept him frozen in place.

“I’m not saying that this is right or wrong of him. But… try to see things his way: from what you told me, his family ruined him. And maybe… you’re the only part of him they didn’t touch. The only victory he sees against his family. He just… he doesn’t want to let you get involved because it’s the way he has to reaffirm himself against his family.”

When Alfred kept gaping at Maggie, the girl blushed, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“I’m not… I’m not trying to say that your father sees you as an object,” she clarified quickly. “Obviously, his first aim is to keep you safe by not worrying you about him and his family. But… maybe, you’re exactly the last person he wants to talk about this with. Because you know, if his family manages to trouble his son as well, that’s another way he has let them win.”

Maggie looked more and more panicked, she bit her lower lip and blushed.

“I mean, I’m not trying to assume anything, I just… I just…”

Alfred placed his hands on her shoulders.

“No, don’t apologize. I think… I think you might be right.”

He had never considered the issue from that side, but he couldn’t deny that Maggie had a point. A weight fell to the bottom of his stomach as Alfred recalled the yells from that morning, how he had snapped at his father.

Maggie’s words didn’t reassure him, if anything, they made everything even more frustrating.

“Isn’t there anything I can do, then?”

Theoretically, Alfred knew that he couldn’t always help with everything. The realization still brought a sour taste to his mouth.

Maggie shook her head, her eyes widening.

“This isn’t what I was trying to get at! I just… of course you can do a lot for your father. Just… not the way you think. I think… I think that if you just did your best to support your father without mentioning the entire matter… this would already be a lot for him.”

Maggie’s word left Alfred gaping in surprise.

_‘Just not the way you want.’_

_There_ lay the problem, didn’t it? Alfred had almost not realized that – but in his frustration, he had ended up serving his own interests more than his father’s ones. It wasn’t a pleasant news, yet it left him calmer, lifting a weight off his chest.

Alfred flashed a smile at Maggie, who looked on the verge of panicking.

“You know what? I really needed to hear this. You’re right.”

The relief in Maggie’s eyes was almost painful to look at, but the smile that curled her lips a moment later looked genuine.

“Is it… Is it better now?” the girl asked tentatively.

Alfred smiled again. This time, it barely took any effort.

“Yes. Actually, it’s a lot better.”

The problem hadn’t been solved, but looking at it from another perspective changed everything. Alfred knew that he was going to need all his self-restraint to stop asking Arthur questions, but he could do it.

“How would you feel about some food?” he asked, changing the topic. “I’m kind of starving, lunch was forever ago…”

Maggie nodded, even if Alfred was sure that she wasn’t going to eat anything. She never did, but she never complained about following him, either. Alfred didn’t think that he had ever met somebody as kind and considerate as she was.

The girl had already taken a few steps, preparing to head towards the café, but she halted as she realized that Alfred wasn’t following her.

“Al?” she started asking as she turned, her eyes wide.

Taken by a sudden impulse, Alfred grabbed Maggie’s arm and dragged her close to him before enveloping the girl in a hug.

For a moment Maggie remained completely rigid, making Alfred fear to have stepped well over the boundaries, then she relaxed against his chest, letting her forehead rest on his shoulder. Her slim arms went around Alfred, hesitantly reciprocating the hug.

“Thank you,” Alfred whispered into the girl’s hair.

He didn’t know why it mattered so much, but the feeling of the slight frame nestled into his arms invaded Alfred with a strange sensation of calm. Like Maggie almost belonged there. Nothing mattered aside the two of them, not even the tall, stunning woman that stopped to stare at them, a strange glint of curiosity in her eyes before shaking her head and resuming her walk.

When Alfred finally released Maggie, the girl’s face was heavily flushed, but the spark in her eyes didn’t speak of regret.

Alfred offered her a wide smile, holding out his right hand.

“Shall we go then?”

The flush on Maggie’s cheeks intensified as she lowered her eyes and hesitantly placed her hand over Alfred’s. Her fingers gently closing over his made Alfred’s heart skip a beat, but for how uncommon and new the feeling was, it wasn’t unpleasant.

The afternoon wasn’t completely ruined, after all – and he only had Maggie to thank for that.

* * *

 

Steve took a sip of beer, downing it without even truly registering the taste. A corner of his mind acknowledged that it was such a low quality that it barely even tasted like beer at all – but he was pleasantly buzzed and he could let it slide. Everything looked a bit brighter, with the alcohol taking off the edge.

He smiled at Claudia, who was sitting in front of him. The sweater had slid off her right shoulder, offering an alluring glimpse of the woman’s dark, flawless skin. The pensive frown that barely creased Claudia’s forehead, however, didn’t match the mood.

“You know…” the woman started, pursing her lips. “I saw your step-daughter earlier. Maddie, right?”

 _‘Maggie,’_ Steve’s mind corrected automatically, but no words went past his lips. The taste in his mouth turned bitter as Claudia’s words summoned a picture of his step-daughter's timid, bashful face. And with her…

“Don’t worry about her,” Steve almost growled, clenching his fists. He forced his lips into a smile before addressing Claudia again. “This is about us, I’ve told you before. No need to think about her.”

Claudia reciprocated his grin, letting Steve hope for a moment that the worst was passed. He gripped Claudia’s arm and stood up from his chair, but the woman stopped him.

“I’m not worrying about her. But you are, you told me so before. You know, about your neighbour… I don’t think she’s doing anything with him.”

Steve groaned internally.

_Of course she isn’t. I never thought she did in the first place._

According to Claudia, the Frenchman next door wasn’t gay as Steve had assumed by effeminate appearance, he was even quite popular with women – however, if there was one thing Steve knew with certainty, it was that Maggie would never do something like that. That girl was such a spineless, timid being in spite of having inherited a great part of her mother’s beauty…

The thought registered in Steve’s chest with a stab of pain. He gritted his teeth, trying to force himself to banish the picture out of his mind. He didn’t want to think about it. He had only told Claudia about Maggie and that French frog hoping to make the girl look bad in Claudia’s eyes so that Claudia wouldn’t be concerned about her… clearly, it had been a mistake.

_Damn women and their maternal instinct._

That had been what had ruined Chloé, too.

Remembering the current situation, Steve shook himself.

“Maybe not. But at this point, I’ve given up on her. If it’s not him, it’ll be somebody else. As long as she doesn’t get pregnant… And don’t make me think about this now.”

He bent down and pressed a kiss to the corner of Claudia’s mouth, signalling that his mind was on completely different matters.

Claudia kissed him back, a playful glint glimmering in her dark eyes – and then, she detached herself from Steve and talked again.

“No, I’m serious about this. I really don’t think Maddie’s going at it with anybody. I saw her with a boy around her age earlier, at the park…”

Steve’s blood ran cold, a strange heaviness settled in his stomach.

_The park?_

Maggie wasn’t supposed to be at the park. In fact, she was supposed to be with a classmate of hers for some school crap. A _female_ classmate of hers, Steve hadn’t truly been paying attention when Maggie had timidly told him, keeping her head down and wringing her hands, but he vaguely recalled a name… Natasha? No, not Natasha, but something similar. A girl’s name, either way, Steve was sure of that.

_That lying bitch…_

Unaware of the reaction her words had stirred, Claudia went on talking, giving a small shake of her head as her lips curled into a slight smile that almost spoke of fondness.

“They were so hesitant. They held hands and hugged each other, and they were just… both blushing like mad. So awkward, like kids that age are, it was clear from a mile that those were the first romantic advances they were having with anybody. They were kind of adorable, actually. I don’t even remember ever being so shy… but yeah, anyway, I don’t really think Maddie’s having any sex. She probably hasn’t even kissed anybody yet, you should have seen her… she was just too embarrassed.”

The coil of surprise at the tip of Steve’s stomach slowly turned into hot rage.

_That fucking lying bitch…_

He would have never expected Maggie to lie to him, he thought he had at least tamed her enough to avoid it… clearly, it wasn’t so.

Steve’s pulse quickened with rage – but Claudia was still in front of him, her big, innocent eyes staring up at him.

“Maybe you’re right,” Steve conceded, “But let’s not worry about this now.”

He bent down and captured Claudia’s lips into a hungry kiss. The woman immediately melted against him with a small moan, her arms raising to wrap around Steve’s neck.

Claudia was everything he should have wanted. Witty, confident, and with a body that looked straight out of a porn magazine. But Claudia wasn’t Chloé.

She wasn’t the woman who had offered Steve some trust for the first time in his life, the one who had sworn to build something with him. The one who had made him believe there was more to him than just a lowly thug, the one he should have grown old with.

The one who had been taken away from him.

Steve deepened the kiss, desperately trying to banish the memories from his mind. Yet, even as his lips tasted Claudia’s, he wasn’t truly there. He was back to a cabin in Canada, with Chloé in his arms.

Steve held no illusion that Claudia could have replaced Chloé, the woman had made it clear from the first day that she wasn’t looking for something serious yet. She just wanted some sex and somebody to share her lonely nights with.

If he was honest with himself, Steve didn’t think he was ever going to find somebody who could replace Chloé. That woman had been his only opportunity, and it was lost forever.

Claudia would have been perfectly fine, a distraction to prevent his mind from lingering too much on what he had lost. Claudia would have been perfect, had Steve been allowed to forget.

But Steve could never forget.

Steve couldn’t forget because every day, he was forced to look at a face that looked so much like Chloé’s, to confront the reality that she would never be there again – while the same child who, according to Chloé, he should have never worried about, was constantly in his line of sight.

Steve desperately tried to forget, to focus on the moment and on Claudia, but her words had opened a dam that wouldn’t be closed again.

Claudia had talked about Maggie, but in Maggie, in the lines of her face and in her smile, resided a ghost of her mother. She was an anchor to everything Steve had lost and couldn’t forget about.

Claudia wasn’t the woman Steve truly wanted in his arms.

For how much he tried focusing on her body, he could no longer ignore the emptiness in his chest. He tried drowning it with alcohol, but even that wasn’t enough to make him forget.

As the evening went on, all Steve could focus on was that stupid child, apparently so meek and unassuming, who was ruining every single chance for his happiness. Even worse, that sly thing didn’t even respect him – she was lying to him in a way Steve would have never thought possible.

Hot anger started rising along with the alcoholic content.

If Steve wasn’t allowed to be happy, why should the person who was the main reason for his misery?

* * *

 

When Maggie got home, it was already dark, the grass of her courtyard and the entire patio looked almost silver under the moonlight. The girl tiredly opened the door and made her way into the house, her limbs heavy with exhaustion.

No tiredness could wipe the smile from her face, however.

Maybe not everything had gone according to Alfred’s plans, but that had been one of the best afternoons Maggie had ever experienced, and the fact that Alfred had tailored it specifically for her made everything almost exhilarating in a dizzying way.

Too tired to bother with dinner, Maggie walked directly to her bedroom and ditched her clothes in favour of a pyjama before throwing herself at the bed, sighing with satisfaction when the mattress rearranged itself under her weight.

Steve wasn’t even going to dine at home, so Maggie didn’t have to be concerned with his meal. On a normal day, she would still have to prepare his lunch for the following day and some extra food in case he grew hungry, but Steve was going to leave that night for a five-days business trip to the Netherlands.

Maggie knew that she should feel sorry for him leaving, but in truth, the thought only lifted a weight off her shoulders.

_Steve is going to have a good time, after all, he likes these trips and he’s with Joshua. It’s fine if I’m happy about this._

Maggie’s stomach tightened with the knowledge that it wasn’t the main reason she was happy for Steve’s trip, but for how selfish it might be, the girl didn’t want to ruin the memories of that wonderful afternoon with grim thoughts.

Maggie turned on her side and reached for her e-reader, hoping to quell any concern as she focused her mind on fictional issues. The girl only lasted a couple of pages before her lids started sliding closed and the words in front of her blurring.

Gritting her teeth in determination, Maggie managed to last for another page before sleep finally overcame her. The e-reader fell from her loosened hold with a gentle thump, resting on the mattress, and as her eyes slid closed Maggie summoned for one last time the memories of the afternoon just passed, a faint smile blossoming on her lips.

 _‘This night, I’m going to have pleasant dreams,’_ was the last thought she remembered formulating.

When Maggie was suddenly jerked awake, however, the feeling was anything but pleasant.

The girl stilled on the bed, holding her breath as she started to analyse the situation.

_What…_

Something had woken her up. There was something wrong, something alien in the room that was making goosebumps rise all over Maggie’s arms with a feeling of foreboding.

The girl raised her lids of an infinitesimal fraction, just enough to get a glimpse of her surroundings. When her pupils finally adjusted to the darkness, Maggie noticed with a lurch of her stomach the dark frame that was leaning against the doorframe, supporting itself over one arm.

The walls of Maggie’s throat started closing on themselves, clenched in an icy grip.

 _‘I’m dreaming,’_ the girl pleaded desperately, using every inch of her will to keep her body unmoving.

She knew that she that wasn’t.

_What is he doing here?_

Steve never went into her bedroom if he could avoid to. He didn’t let Maggie lock the door, but it was still her sanctuary, the man never let his feet cross that invisible line that marked the separation between the room and the corridor.

_Maybe he just wants to say goodbye before leaving, but he doesn’t want to wake me up and he’s trying to decide what to do._

Even as the thought crossed her brain, Maggie knew that it was just wishful thinking. Had Steve needed to tell her something, he wouldn’t have worried about eventually disturbing the girl’s sleep – and rightly so.

_Maybe it’s nothing too important and he’s deciding if it’s important enough to wake me up or not._

Maggie loved fooling herself, sometimes. It was the only way to keep at bay the terror that threatened to swallow her mind.

Steve finally straightened up and took a step into the bedroom.

His unsteady gait sent Maggie’s heart racing.

_Oh God Oh God Oh God…_

When Steve stumbled towards the bed, Maggie knew that she should have moved, but her body was paralyzed and her chest tight. She couldn’t even breathe.

Steve finally stopped at the side of her bed and his hand descended heavily on the mattress, making it sink with all the man’s weight.

Maggie felt like crying, but she couldn’t even fully open her eyes.

A sharp intake of breath was the signal that the nightmare had started.

“Look at you little bitch, sleeping so peacefully.”

Steve’s speech was slurred by the alcohol and heavy with spite.

“Are you even truly sleeping?”

 _‘Yes. Yes, I’m sleeping and this is all a dream,’_ Maggie thought desperately, managing with a titanic effort to force her breathing into a regular pattern in spite of the way her chest was clenched with fear.

_‘Please, let me go, I’m just sleeping…’_

Any hope Maggie might have still held was shattered when a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, shaking her roughly.

Panic made the bile rise to the back of her throat – but Maggie couldn’t pretend to be asleep anymore.

“Mmh… Steve?” she murmured, brushing her eyes with a fist as if she had just woken up. “What’s up?”

Everything screamed at Maggie to bolt out of the bed and flee, but deep down, she knew that it would only make things worse.

Swallowing down a ball of panic, the girl forced her frozen lips to curl into a weak smile as she dragged herself to a sitting position.

The only answer she got was a heavy slap against her right cheek, strong enough to push her off the opposite side of the bed.

In spite of herself, Maggie cried out at the jolt of pain as her body hit the floor, her eyes snapping wide open. Immediately, the girl dragged herself up bracing herself against the side-table, her heart racing.

Her cheek was stinging, but it was barely registered as Steve made his way around the bed. The heavy thump of his stumbled steps against the floor was everything Maggie could focus on, each of them drilling against her brain with impending doom.

“You tell me,” the man hissed. “You tell me what’s up, you little liar.”

The appellative made a weight sink into Maggie’s stomach, so heavy that the girl felt physically sick.

“I… I have no idea of what you’re talking about…” she whispered anyway, desperately trying to latch onto the last thread of hope.

Steve stopped a step from her, wavering on his feet. The smell of alcohol emanating from him made nausea blossom across Maggie’s stomach.

“Ohhh, you don’t?” Steve slurred, “Are you really sure about this? Who’s _‘Natasha’_ , uh? Since when is it a boy’s name?”

Maggie’s heart stopped beating. With the breath caught in her chest and her ears ringing, the girl could only stare wide-eyed at her step-father.

_He knows._

She didn’t know how it was possible, but that was the only explanation – and she had no words to counter it, her brain was frozen and her tongue paralyzed.

Steve took her silence as an assent.

“I had warned you, slut!” he growled, then thrust his fist into her stomach.

All the air left Maggie’s lungs, she doubled over and coughed, clutching her midsection.

Steve let her a single moment of respite before grabbing the girl by her arm and pushing her to the other side of the room. Maggie let out a weak cry as pain surged in her shoulder and hip when she banged them against the closet.

She stumbled back to her feet, but Steve was faster and a knee to her side sent Maggie skidding on the floor, agony flaring up in her entire body. A well-placed kick to her stomach silenced the girl’s screams, making her vision blur.

Curling up on herself and with her ears ringing, Maggie could barely make out Steve talking, yet his words cut through the fog of pain enveloping her.

“You didn’t only disobey me, you little bitch! You disobeyed _and_ lied! How long, uh? How long have you been going on behind my back? Did you truly think I wasn’t going to notice?!”

Even if she had wanted to defend herself, Maggie couldn’t have. Steve was right.

The girl curled tighter on herself as Steve violently kicked her side, stealing the breath out of her.

Steve was right. But Steve was also out of control at the moment, the hit to Maggie’s face had just proven so.

Another strong kick reached Maggie’s ribcage, immediately followed by a blinding wave of agony. Maggie could’ve sworn she had felt something _crack_.

_He’s too drunk. I need to get away._

That was the only certainty that breached through the agony enveloping Maggie’s brain as violent blows kept raining down on her.

Ignoring the sparks of pain that stabbed her body at the movement, the girl managed to take advantage of a momentary pause to stammer to her feet and stumbled away. She wavered, whimpering, but gritted her teeth and forced her shaky legs to move, praying that Steve’s intoxicated state would slow him down enough.

_Bathroom. If I can lock myself in, it will be alright._

Steve would still punish her once he was sober, but it wouldn’t be the same.

Maggie trudged on to the bathroom, leaning against the wall with a moan and refusing to let herself fall when her abdomen spasmed in agony, but the heavy steps were already thumping behind her.

“And just where do you think you’re going? I’m not finished with you, bitch!”

Maggie knew that, and that made her walk faster – only for her left foot to stumble on something cold and smooth. With a gasp, Maggie jerked back, avoiding just in time to set her weight on a bottle of beer.

At the same moment, a sweaty hard closed over her left wrist.

Maggie cried out in surprise as Steve twisted her arm.

“N-no, stop-” she pleaded, only for her shaky words to be silenced by a brutal blow to her stomach.

Doubling over in pain only increased the pressure on her arm.

Barely able to breathe and with her vision blurred, Maggie couldn’t restrain anymore the tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

Steve kept twisting her arm, eliciting a breathless whimper.

“Now you’ll see, you little bitch…” he was gasping, but Maggie could barely hear his words above the ringing in her own ears. “You’ll see what happens when you disobey me…”

“I won’t!” the girl sobbed, desperately trying to twist against the man’s grip. “Please, I won’t anymore!”

Just when Maggie thought her arm was about to give in, Steve suddenly released the girl and kneed her side, spreading a jolt of agony through her entire ribcage.

Winded, Maggie felt her body fall down. She tried to brace for the impact against the wall, but her side only encountered void.

Through her blurred vision, the girl realized only at the last moment why there wasn’t any wall.

_Oh…_

Agony exploded in her left arm as it met a step and gave away with a snap, tearing a cry from Maggie’s lips. There was a sharp pain in her head, then everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hesper is Nyo!Greece  
> Helena is Ancient Greece
> 
> I hope that this chapter has finally shed some light on Steve’s character. I also hope it’s clear that I’m absolutely NOT condoning his actions, I just wanted to show where they came from – however, having a motivation is completely different from having a justification.
> 
> On a lighter note, the movie Alfred and Maggie watched is a real one. It’s not even exactly a horror movie, but it’s quite creepy, especially in the beginning.
> 
> I’ll try my best to not let a month pass before next chapter, but I don’t think it’ll be much less, either. For now, I think I have to surrender to the evidence that my spare time is what it is. For how long it may take, however, I have no intentions of abandoning this story :)


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter proved to be quite challenging to write, I hope I gave it justice.  
> And thank you so, so much for the support, I cannot put into words how much it means to me!
> 
>  **Warnings: Injuries caused by an abusive caretaker and other mentions of child abuse.**  
>  Dialogues in italics between Francis and Maggie mean they're speaking French.  
> English isn’t my first language, I apologize for the mistakes. I proof-read multiple times and use both Microsoft Word built-in spellchecker and a free version of Grammarly, but something always escapes me, especially if I’m tired. I should probably also mention that I try to use the British spelling – any American form is actually a mistake on my part, since I cannot really distinguish the two. (I’m specifying this because a reader pointed out that American readers might consider the British spelling as a typo along with the real ones, thus increasing the number of mistakes they find.)
> 
> This said, I hope you’ll enjoy the chapter! And reviews are always extremely appreciated :)

Something was throbbing distantly. No – not something. Her entire body was throbbing, the pain intensifying and then fading down in waves in tune with Maggie’s breathing.

Maggie needed to wake up – but waking up would mean increasing the pain, a corner of her mind told her. Fading away would be better.

However, the pain wasn’t letting her do it, pounding in Maggie’s brain, and the sunrays hitting her eyelids weren’t helping.

Groaning, the girl tried to turn away, only for a burst of agony to flare up in her left arm. Maggie cried out, instinctively curling up on herself as pain ate her entire body in a white flash. Maybe she fainted for a moment, she wasn’t sure of it – but when she came to, the pain was so intense that it was almost unbearable, tearing a small whimper from her lips. At the same time, the fact that the sensation was now impossible to ignore forced the girl into alertness.

Maggie stayed completely still, waiting for the pain to abate. It never did fully – but after some agonizingly long moments, it became more localized. Her head was pounding along with her heartbeat, merging her thoughts in a muffled mess. Her entire abdomen was hurting too, her stomach painfully contracted and churning, spires of pain flaring up in her ribcage at each shallow breath. The worst, however, was Maggie’s left arm, throbbing so viciously that the girl almost wanted to cry. She didn’t dare to move it.

_‘What happened?’_

Desperately trying to block out the pain and swallowing to bring relief to her parched throat, Maggie pried her eyes open. The light felt like a scorching needle piercing her brain. A whimper bubbled up Maggie’s throat as the nausea increased, but she stubbornly refused to close her eyes – there was something wrong with the entire situation, and she needed to find out what.

It took Maggie an embarrassingly long amount of time to register the foreign, hard texture under her cheek and arm, so different from the pillowcase. Blinking to put her surroundings into focus, the girl realized that she was in the living room, lying on the sofa.

_‘How did I get here?’_

It didn’t make any sense. Thinking only increased the headache, yet Maggie stubbornly forced herself to focus on her most recent memories. She could recall a dreamlike afternoon with Alfred, falling asleep with her mind still lingering on the pleasant memories… and at the same moment, the last pieces of the puzzle clicked together in Maggie’s mind, making her blood run cold and her body go rigid as her chest constricted.

_Oh, shit._

The knot in Maggie’s stomach rose to her throat, squeezing it. Her ears were ringing, her lungs begging for air – only at the very last moment, the girl became aware of the acrid taste of bile to the back of her throat.

Maggie leaned over the edge of the sofa and threw up. Fortunately, there wasn’t much to get rid of – but agony flared up in her ribcage as her stomach cramped, constricting her lungs and increasing the pounding in her head.

For several moments, the girl lay curled on herself, whimpering, with her brain unable to register anything but the agony eating her every nerve. When Maggie finally regained a spark of alertness, her cheeks were damp with tears and her head pulsing, black dancing at the corners of her narrowing vision.

The girl forced herself to stay still for several moments, willing air in her lungs in shallow, measured breaths until the ache in her ribcage stabilized to a bearable level.

_Do I have any broken rib?_

Maggie couldn’t tell. A confused corner of her mind seemed to recall that the pain had been worse the last time, but she wasn’t coherent enough to be sure, all her thoughts seemed to be swimming in a sea of mud and her head was spinning and pounding painfully.

Broken ribs or not, she needed proper medical care, that was for sure.

_Where’s Steve?_

Maggie couldn’t recall exactly how the confrontation had ended. The last clear memory she had was the man accusing her of lying, after that, all her mind could retrieve were confused flashes of pain, yells, and feet hitting her flesh. The mere thought made Maggie’s chest constrict with the knowledge of what Steve had uncovered and how everything was going to be over, something she couldn’t contemplate – but, no matter how harsh the beating had been, Steve would bring her to the hospital for something so bad. So, why hadn’t he yet?

_Maybe I don’t deserve medical care, this time. What I did was so bad that I should bear the pain on my own._

It would make sense, Maggie had never betrayed Steve’s trust so badly. Hiding those injuries wouldn’t be easy, the girl felt almost sick at the though. And she couldn’t move her left arm at all, a hiss seeped through Maggie’s lips as the pulsing pain spiked up in agony at the smallest shift. She could still move her fingers, but the arm itself was useless. Broken, most likely. There was no way to hide that, people were bound to notice and Steve would end in troubles. He had no option but to take Maggie to the hospital.

_But maybe he’s still passed-out._

He probably was, Maggie seemed to recall that he had been drunk the previous night – he had to have been drunk, to inflict such a damage. Waiting until he was awake was nothing Maggie didn’t deserve. Sighing, the girl let her eyelids flutter closed, hoping to dull the pain with sleep…

_But Steve had to leave for Amsterdam._

The thought washed over Maggie like a cold shower, making her eyes snap open in spite of the flash of pain the sudden light caused her. Was she alone in the house? Maggie being on the sofa meant that Steve had carried her there before leaving…

If she concentrated hard enough past the throbbing in her head, Maggie could almost recall snippets of conversation and feelings emerging from the murky depths of her confused memories.

_Her body leaning against something awkward, angles pressing against her side and legs. Stairs? Some shouting. A hand on her neck. Fingers brushing her forehead. Voices._

_“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, were you trying to kill her?”_

_While Steve’s voice muttered something in the background, hands gently lifting Maggie’s body, the movement causing an onslaught of pain that made everything fade into darkness._

_Then, the vague realization of the same hands lowering her body down on the sofa. Thin, spindly fingers lingering on her wrist. The voices were talking again, but only fragments reached Maggie’s disoriented mind._

_“Don’t you fucking touch her!”_

The recollection of the anger lacing Steve’s voice sent shivers running down Maggie’s back, but not as bad as the realization of whom the second voice belonged to: Joshua.

 _“I’m not doing anything, I’m just trying to check her pulse!”_ In spite of the general confusion, Maggie could perfectly recall how clipped the voice had felt. It had been close to her. _“I don’t get why you should care, anyway.”_

 _Steve growling in the way that made Maggie wanted to run for cover, his words so slurred that the girl wasn’t able to make them out._ What she could remember, however, was Joshua’s annoyed answer.

 _“Oh, that’s rich. You promised Chloé to protect her? Christ, you’re the one who beat her up and pushed her down a flight of stairs. And you’re worrying about what_ I _could do? Your lack of self-awareness is astonishing.”_

Maggie hadn’t been able to make out Steve’s grumbling in the background, but Joshua’s voice rang clear in her ears, making her skin crawl at the mere recollection.

_“Your assumption is fundamentally wrong. I never do anything they don’t let me do.”_

Maggie’s chest felt tight, pressing against her lungs. The girl closed her eyes and forced herself to take some shuddering, shallow breaths until her heartbeat slowed down.

Maggie didn’t want to dive into the following memories, but either way, she couldn’t recall anything else. Steve and Joshua had to have left, leaving her alone without calling for help – so Steve could claim he hadn’t been present and avoid being connected with Maggie’s injuries.

_Smart._

But that meant Maggie had to do everything on her own, now. Gritting her teeth against the pain and holding her left arm close to her chest, the girl tensed her muscles and dragged herself to a sitting positing. Several groans were torn from her lips in the process when her ribs and lower abdomen protested with painful jolts, and in the end Maggie’s head was spinning and her ears ringing so badly that she needed to close her eyes to collect herself – but at least, she felt slightly more alert than a few minutes earlier.

The main issue was that Maggie needed to go to the hospital – it was the best way to look innocent – but she couldn’t do it alone. Taking a bus was out of question, the grey edges at the corner of her vision and the way her stomach was churning clearly told Maggie that she would pass out long before reaching the hospital – she wasn’t even sure that she could reach the bus stop.

An ambulance wouldn’t be any better, Maggie couldn’t recall whether it was included in Steve’s insurance plan or not. Berating herself for forgetting wasn’t going to grant her the knowledge.

Then…

A smooth, comforting voice invaded Maggie’s mind, slowing down her racing heart at the mere recollection.

_“If you ever need anything at all…”_

A lump surged in Maggie’s throat. She had no doubt over the sincerity of those words – but that was exactly why she had sworn to never take any advantage of it. Yet, she didn’t have any other option.

Maggie’s eyes darted to the house phone, sitting on a stool next to the stairs. The knot in her stomach wasn’t only nausea, at that point.

Swallowing, the girl started gathering herself to get up, mentally preparing for the pain. Her entire body screamed at the movements, the agony flaring up in her nerves turned Maggie’s vision grey – but, in spite of the way the world was teetering on its axis and her head spinning, the girl managed to wobble to the phone and then slid to the floor, her right hand awkwardly clutching the smooth, cold plastic of the receiver.

Maggie rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes to calm down the waves of dizziness and nausea washing over her. She couldn’t afford more than a moment of rest, however. As soon as the spinning and ringing settled down to a reasonable level, her trembling fingers composed a number she had learnt by heart, relying more on the position of the buttons than the girl’s blurred vision.

Maggie’s heartbeat peaked as she listened to the waiting tune of the phone, and her stomach coiled painfully when the familiar voice answered smoothly from the other side.

_“Allo?”_

Maggie had to swallow before she could answer.

_“Hi, Francis. I’m Maggie. I really hope I’m not bothering you…”_

There was a pause on the other side that constricted Maggie’s chest – but when Francis spoke again, his voice was filled with confusion that slowly morphed into concern.

_“Marguerite? Of course you’re not bothering me, ma chérie. But… Why are you calling me at this hour?”_

Maggie had no idea of what time it was, she didn’t know if it was too early or if she was supposed to be already at school. All she could concentrate on was the upset note in Francis’s voice, it made her stomach heavy with dread, yet, she had no other option but to talk. Maggie gathered courage with the deepest breath she could take.

_“I… I think… Are you free now? Are you really sure I’m not bothering you?”_

_“Of course you aren’t. And I’m free. I’m home right now. But Marguerite, what happened? Are you alright?”_

Francis was trying to stay calm, but his voice was laced with alarm – it was almost barely controlled panic, at that point. Maggie’s chest was so tight that she could barely breathe.

 _“I… I fell down the stairs,”_ the girl answered in a pitiful whimper that was immediately met with a chocked gasp. _“And… I think I broke my arm. I’m really, really sorry to bother you with this, but Steve left for a business trip and I…”_

Francis interrupted her, his voice clipped.

_“Stay right where you are. I’m coming.”_

After that, only the faint buzz of the telephone rang in Maggie’s ears. The girl let the phone slip through her fingers and drop with a thud to the floor, exhaustion washing over her. Her head was spinning, not only from the concussion but with the knowledge of how definitive what she had done was. She had bothered Francis, she had been selfish and asked for help.

A corner of her mind, however, couldn’t help but linger on how he hadn’t been angry at her for asking.

It wasn’t long before a frantic knocking at the door brought Maggie back to alertness, followed by Francis’s muffled voice.

_“Marguerite? Marguerite, can you hear me? I need to open the door. Do you keep the keys somewhere? I…”_

_“I’m coming!”_ The girl answered shakily, as loud as she could.

She licked her lips and dragged herself up, leaning against the wall for support. Her gait resembled the unsteady wobble of a new-born calf, with the way the floor was titling and Maggie’s vision swimming, but it didn’t hurt as much as getting up.

 _“Marguerite?”_ Francis kept calling behind the door, his concerned voice growing louder and louder as the girl stumbled closer. _“Marguerite, are you really sure you should be walking? Just… if you’re keeping the key somewhere outside I’ll find it, or maybe if there’s a window open I…”_

But at that point, Maggie had reached the door and opened it.

Francis’s face met her, the concern creasing his features and clouding his eyes morphing into horror as he took in Maggie’s appearance.

 _“Marguerite!”_ he gasped, his eyes widening and his entire body stiffening.

Maggie offered Francis a weak smile that looked more like a grimace.

_“I’m so-”_

Francis didn’t let her finish. With a concerned gasp, he stepped right in front of Maggie and laid a hand on her shoulder, while the other one went to brush back the girl’s bangs.

_“Oh mon Dieu are you… did you hit your head? How… where else are you hurt?”_

Only at that moment, Maggie realized that her forehead was crusted with dried blood. She wanted to answer, but a wave of dizziness made her waver.

Francis’s hands immediately went around her, warm and steady. They helped the girl lean against him.

_“It’s alright. Never mind now, you can tell me in the car. We’re going to the hospital.”_

Maggie nodded against Francis’s coat, inhaling the pleasant smell of cologne that had become so familiar to her. She truly hadn’t wanted to trouble Francis, but the way his hands firmly rested on her shoulders, his rich voice and the melodious French – everything about him radiated a sense of stability that finally loosened the grip around the girl’s chest.

Francis was safe.

 _“I’m really sorry…”_ Maggie mumbled as she detached herself from the man, who kept gently holding her from her elbows for support.

Francis shook his head, looking at Maggie in concern.

_“Don’t you dare apologize for this. I’m glad you called me, chérie. I… just a moment.”_

To Maggie’s confusion, Francis released her, and, after a glance to make sure Maggie would stay on her own two feet, he stepped inside the house. Before Maggie could even start wondering what the man was trying to accomplish, he was back, her red coat in his hands.

 _“It’s cold, and you’re only wearing your pyjamas,”_ Francis explained as he wrapped the coat around Maggie’s shoulders, his touch so gentle that the girl barely felt it. _“I saw the coat behind you so I took it.”_

Maggie hadn’t even realized she wasn’t wearing proper clothes. A slight pang of embarrassment surged in her stomach – but Francis didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Maggie’s back to support her.

_“Are you sure…”_

_“I can walk,”_ Maggie declared, gritting her teeth in determination. The world seemed to be tethering on its axis, but her legs were fine, unlike the rest of her body.

Francis pursed his lips, not satisfied, but instead of replying he supported Maggie as they walked to the car.

 _“Oh, your feet!”_ he gasped as he helped Maggie climb onto the passenger’s seat. _“I hadn’t noticed you were barefooted, of course…”_

 _“It’s fine,”_ the girl replied softly, too dazed to elaborate any further.

Francis said nothing more, he simply climbed on the driving seat and ignited the car. Maggie couldn’t ignore the worried glance he sent her or how his features were tight with stress, but she had no energy to address it. Trying to brace herself against the pain, the girl curled up on the seat. The motion of the car was making it worse, reverberating with painful jolts in her ribcage and broken arm. And with the pain, came the pounding in her head and the nausea.

Maggie closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seat, trying to keep her breathing shallow and even.

A hand landed on her shoulder.

_“Marguerite! I’m so sorry, chérie, but you absolutely have to stay awake until we reach the hospital…”_

The urgency and concern seeping thought Francis’s voice made the girl’s chest clench.

 _“I’m not going to pass out, I’m just…”_ she said pathetically, in a scratchy voice, but her ears were ringing and her vision was swimming.

 _“Tell me what happened,”_ Francis said.

He was bent forward, almost curled around the steering wheel as if it could help him go faster, but his eyes kept darting to Maggie. All his features were rigid in the determination not to show his panic.

Maggie licked her lips before answering.

_“I… I just… I think I got up to get some water, but… I was really dizzy and I slipped. I woke up at the bottom of the stairs… and everything hurt but I thought it could be fine, so I just went to lie down on the sofa…  but when I woke up, I realized that my arm was broken.”_

Her voice trailed off in a whimper. Had she just made a mistake? Maggie had to make it look like an accident, and with her low blood pressure, it seemed plausible… but was she supposed to remember, if she had a concussion? Maggie didn’t know, and her head was pounding so much that thinking was painful. The fact that the girl was already using all her energies to keep her eyes open in spite of the black spots darkening her vision didn’t help, either.

 _“All right.”_ There was a catch in Francis’s forcefully calm voice. _“And your step-father? Was he already gone when this happened?”_

Maggie’s blood ran cold at the fury hidden beneath the surface of Francis’s words. All she could manage was a small nod.

_“I was alone.”_

Maggie could read Francis’s disbelief in his pursed lips. Just when the girl had started trying to brace herself for the following barrage of questions, however, Francis’s features softened. His shoulders relaxed as he breathed in deeply.

 _“I see,”_ he said, with a tenderness in his voice that made Maggie’s chest ache. _“Well, there’s nothing that can be done then. I’ll need to give him a call later, but don’t think even for a moment that I will wait for that or get you out of the hospital if he doesn’t agree with it. You need to be looked over.”_

 _“There won’t be any problem,”_ Maggie replied, her head spinning with relief, _“I know that Steve has been very aggressive with you, and I apologize for this, he’s just protective… but, he won’t say anything this time, since it’s so serious. He would have taken me to the hospital himself, if he had been home.”_

For once, most of what Maggie had said was true. She didn’t know why Francis wasn’t questioning her, but she wasn’t going to complain, the drop of tension left her even number and exhausted, she could barely keep her eyes open. Maggie was sure that she would have slipped into unconsciousness, if it wasn’t for the way nausea kept gripping her stomach, bringing bile to the back of her throat. The girl pressed her good hand against her stomach and closed her eyes, trying to breathe as deeply as she could without hurting her ribcage.

_“Are you going to pass out or are you feeling nauseous?”_

_“I’m just nauseous.”_ In spite of the ringing in her ears and the way her head was spinning, even with her eyes closed, Maggie didn’t think she was going to faint. _“Sorry.”_

Francis hummed. His left hand landed on Maggie’s shoulder, giving it a gentle stroke without hurting it.

_“It’s alright. No need to apologize, we’re almost there.”_

Maggie couldn’t tell if Francis’s words were sincere or just an empty reassurance, she realized that she wasn’t completely aware of the passing of time – accurate perceptions were hidden behind the sea of mud her thoughts seemed to be swimming in.

Finally, Francis’s car pulled to a stop.

_“We’re here, ma chérie. It’ll be alright.”_

The words made Maggie’s stomach plummet. For how much she was aware of needing a hospital, she certainly wasn’t looking forward to the sterile walls, the cold, impersonal hands holding her and all the questions… but she had to make it. Somehow.

Maggie started shifting on her seat, hugging her left arm closer to her chest as she prepared to move. When Francis opened the door, he offered the girl a gentle smile that was reassuring, in spite of the way the tight lines around his eyes spelt out his concern.

The man wrapped his left arm around her back, then, to Maggie’s surprise, he slipped his other arm under her knees and straightened up with the girl in his arms.

 _“You’re barefooted,”_ he explained as Maggie opened her mouth to protest, _“You shouldn’t be walking around.”_

Maggie quieted down and let her head rest against Francis’s shoulder. She didn’t want to trouble the man, but he was right, and she was too tired to protest.

As Francis walked closer and closer to the ER, Maggie could feel her heartbeat quicken, nausea swirling in her stomach as her chest clenched and her breathing sped up.

 _‘It’s necessary,’_ she kept telling herself, but that didn’t truly stop the ball of panic that was growing in her chest.

Francis gently tightened his hold, bringing the girl back to reality.

_“Oh, you poor thing, you must be so scared… You’re trembling. I promise you it’s going to be all right, Marguerite. I won’t let anything happen to you.”_

Maggie realized that Francis was right – and, even more strangely, the sincerity in his words grounded her. She hid her head against Francis’s shoulder as the man crossed the door, forcing herself to breathe.

_‘It’s going to be alright.’_

 Maggie still couldn’t fully believe it, but Francis’s soothing presence helped her to.

It wasn’t long before Francis’s steps halted in front of the front desk, where the man gave a brief explanation of the situation as Maggie raised her head to offer a weak smile to the young woman in front of her.

To Maggie’s embarrassment, the woman asked for a stretcher to be brought to her, but any protest died in Maggie’s throat at following question.

“Are you her father?”

The woman’s voice was pleasantly neutral, but there was a cold glint in her eyes. Francis tensed.

“No, I’m the neighbour. But…”

“I called him,” Maggie interrupted him, “I live with my step-dad, but he left for a business trip last night so I was home alone. I… I didn’t want to call an ambulance, so I asked Francis if he could bring me to the hospital…”

“I hope it won’t be a problem,” the man added. In spite of his usually pleasant voice, the smile on his lips was tight.

Much to Maggie’s relief, the receptionist shook her head.

“Her guardian will have to be notified, but it’s alright. It doesn’t matter if she’s an unaccompanied minor, we are bound to provide assistance anyway, and she can’t revoke the consent. Just leave aside the part about the insurance, we’ll cover it with her guardian later, for now, fill the rest of the paperwork. It’s not a busy day, you shouldn’t have to wait for long.”

A moment later, the stretcher was ready and Francis deposited Maggie on it under a nurse’s supervision. Lying there was unpleasant, it made the girl feel too exposed, almost naked. She closed her eyes and tried to keep her breathing even, but she couldn’t keep at bay the tension rising in her chest. Nobody had asked strange questions yet, but how long would it last? And that was without thinking about the examination itself, Maggie wasn’t looking forward to the hands prodding her naked skin…

Francis’s hand gave hers a gentle squeeze.

_“Everything is going to be fine, ma petite. But I need a bit of help filling these forms, alright?”_

There was barely concealed panic in the man’s eyes, but his smile was genuinely soft and his voice soothing. Maggie let herself be lulled by it, focusing her mind on answering the standard questions the man asked her – blood type, allergies, height, Maggie couldn’t recall how much she weighted and her gross estimation made the creases on Francis’s forehead tighten, only for his features to relax immediately after as the man realized that he had written the wrong birth year.

 _“Maths has never been my greatest strength. It’s not a case I studied in the literary field,”_ he commented with a light chuckle.

That was a lie, and both of them knew it. Maggie’s stomach was knotted with uneasiness.

 _“Thank you so much for helping me, I don’t really know how to thank you,”_ the girl started saying as soon as Francis had filled the form, not stopping even when the man looked about to speak. _“But it’s enough now. Really, I… I’m so grateful for what you did for me, but you’ll have things to do, I cannot possibly make you waste any more time by staying with me… You should go now.”_

Francis sighed. The eyes that landed on the girl were so filled with sadness that they made her chest clench.

_“Marguerite, don’t worry about me. This isn’t a problem at all, I cannot possibly leave you alone after seeing you like this…”_

Maggie mentally cursed herself. Francis’s features spoke about earnest participation, and she should have expected it: such a caring person would probably only feel worse by leaving her alone and not knowing immediately what was going on. Maggie shouldn’t have involved him at all – but she had, and now, she had to deal with it too.

 _“I… I mean,”_ the girl muttered, struggling to find the right words in her hazy brain, _“You can stay if it makes you feel better, but… you absolutely don’t have to feel like you have to, you have already done so much…”_

Francis took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, closing his eyes for a moment.

_“Now listen to me, Marguerite. This isn’t about me. I know how unpleasant and scary hospitals are, that’s why I want to stay, I don’t want to leave you alone. But, if my presence makes you more nervous, I’ll go. The only thing I want is for you to be as comfortable as possible. It’s your choice.”_

Maggie could only stare at the man. She knew that she had to retort, but her confused brain couldn’t come up with anything to counter that logic.

_“You’re allowed to ask for things, Marguerite.”_

Maggie knew that she wasn’t, but Francis’s eyes were piercing into her with disarming sincerity, making her feel naked. The lump in her throat was so big that she could barely breathe, her chest tight.

She knew that she should have refused, but she was tired and scared and ached all over, all her thoughts a confused spinning in her pounding head. Francis’s hand over hers felt warm.

 _“Please, stay,”_ Maggie ground out in a pitiful half-sob, feeling weaker than she had ever been.

Francis’s smile had never been more genuine.

* * *

 

As soon as the stretcher was wheeled out of sight, Francis slumped into a chair, his head spinning.

“Sir, are you alright?”

Francis raised his head to find himself face-to-face with a blue-eyed, brow-haired nurse ( _‘Sarah’_ , her name-tag said) who was offering him a questioning stare.

“You look quite pale. Do you need anything?”

Francis guessed that the real question was whether he was about to faint or not. He needed to collect himself.

“No, I’m fine. It was just quite a stressful morning,” he half-lied, offering Sarah a weak smile as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear with trembling fingers.

The woman regarded him with another dubious look before shrugging. She clearly had more compelling issues to worry about.

“Alright, I’ll take you on your word. I’d still ask you to stay put until you’re feeling completely fine, however. We surely don’t need anybody fainting in the corridor.”

Francis merely nodded, barely registering the jab at all. He had no intentions to move from that chair for a while, not until he had news about Marguerite, at least. Now that he didn’t have to be calm for the girl, a bone-deep weariness had slammed against him, leaving his limbs as heavy as lead.

Fortunately, the doctor assigned to Marguerite had been Yao, somebody Francis knew he could trust. He didn’t know what he could have done, otherwise… if he was honest with himself, he would have probably been bugging any nurse he could find to know the specific doctor’s reputation. That, however, took care of only a minor part of the problem.

_Marguerite…_

Now that he was alone, Francis could finally let the panic sink in. He had suspected that something might be wrong as soon as he had recognized the girl’s voice at the other end on the phone, and seeing her… her pale face, glassy eyes and the blood caked on her forehead, slightly smeared over her right eyebrow, would join Arthur’s bloodied face in Francis’s nightmare, he was sure of it.

The man forced himself to take a deep breath, but it didn’t work to loosen the tension around his shoulders.

_How did this happen?_

He had woken up earlier than usual, ready to enjoy his morning… Marguerite getting hurt had been the last of his thoughts.

_An unlucky accident._

They were unpredictable, suddenly falling on innocent, happy people and shattering their lives when they were least expecting it. Francis already knew it. Marguerite had even been lucky to an extent, the consequences of hitting her head on the stairs could have been far more severe…

But there was also another issue that had been nagging at a corner of Francis’s brain, suppressed until then because the man’s first priority had been putting Marguerite at ease: had it _truly_ been an accident?

It could have been, all the pieces fell into place: that sorry excuse of a human named Steve was apparently (and a bit too conveniently, Francis couldn’t help but think) absent, Yao had confirmed Marguerite’s low blood pressure that might have made her dizzy, and a fall down the stairs could lead to dire consequences – Francis had had to bring people to the hospital for far less.

In spite of that, the man couldn’t ignore the uneasiness at the bottom of his stomach.

_But, it’s useless for now. I cannot even ask Marguerite until she’s better, it would agitate her too much._

Francis could only wait. Sighing, the man raised his eyes and looked around, hoping to find something to occupy his mind. At least, his head wasn’t spinning anymore.

In a sudden thought, Francis’s fingers fished into his coat’s pocket and immediately closed on a smooth metallic surface. His lips tightened into a grimace as he extracted the phone – he certainly didn’t like bringing it around, but he had to admit that it could be useful.

Opening the phone, the man was surprised to find several unread messages and a missed call. Furrowing his brow, he started scrolling down the list. To his further confusion, most of the messages came from Alfred.

Francis’s stomach plummeted as he scrolled at the top of the conversation and realized what it was about.

**(8:12) <** _Hey_ _Francis, if you’re home, can you check on Maggie? She’s not at school and she’s not answering the phone. Maybe she just didn’t hear the alarm clock or something, but that time she was sick she immediately answered. If you could see if she’s awake…  
_ **(8:30) <** _Dude, are you awake? Maggie still hasn’t answered the phone. This isn’t normal. Can you check if she’s alright?  
_ **(8:42) <** _Francis. Answer the phone.  
_ **(8:51) <** _Where are you? The phone is on. Will you answer?  
_ **(8:56) <** _Never mind the phone, but can you check on Maggie? Kinda worried here._

There were three other messages, then they stopped. Francis checked the time, his eyes widening when they focused on the number: 9:23. He couldn’t believe it was still so early, he felt like an entire lifetime had passed.

At the same moment, another message lit the screen – this time, it was from Feliciano.

**<** _Hi Francis, Al got his phone taken for texting in class. I hope this doesn’t bother you, but could you please check on Maggie? Al is panicking, he ran halfway through the school to make me type this. And it’s not normal for Maggie not to be at school, anyway…_

Francis kept staring at the letters on the screen, his stomach filling with dread. Hearing that a friend was hurt was always such an upsetting news… but he was the adult person there, and he couldn’t just leave those sweet children in the dark when they were in such a frenzy.

He took a deep breath as he tried to think about the best words to use.

 _“I am with Marguerite,”_ he wrote in the end, _“This morning she slipped down the stairs, so I brought her to the hospital for a check-up. She’s still having her X-rays taken, but it shouldn’t be anything too serious. There’s nothing to worry about.”_

The last part was a bit of a lie, but Francis didn’t want to alarm the teens. Yao had confirmed that Marguerite had a concussion, which severity would be assessed after a scan, and her left arm was likely broken – but he had also ruled out internal bleeding, ordering further scans just as a precaution. Nothing was life-threatening. In spite of that, the tightness in Francis’s chest didn’t abate.

The man contemplated calling somebody, but Gilbert and Antonio were both at work and Arthur was with his editor and wouldn’t be back until early in the afternoon, knowing that Maggie was at the hospital would only agitate him.

With a weary sigh, Francis took a newspaper from the side-table and started flipping through the pages without truly reading anything, the trepidation raising in his chest with each passing moment.

After what seemed centuries, Francis heard his name being called in a familiar eastern accent. He jerked up, automatically straightening his coat, as his eyes landed on the approaching form of Iryna.

“Is Marguerite…” he started asking, searching for a sign on the girl’s face. His stomach knotted when he didn’t find any indication of an answer.

“If you’ll follow me, Dr Wang will talk to you,” Iryna said, “He’s with Maggie now.”

Francis fell into step with the woman, getting closer when her voice softened.

“Since you’re not a family member nor do you have any written permission, we shouldn’t tell you anything… but since it’s you and Maggie seemed very calm in your presence, Dr Wang decided that you should stay with her. We haven’t managed to contact her step-father yet, however. If he complains later, you simply brought Maggie here, but you never heard anything about the diagnosis.”

Francis nodded, pursing his lips to hide the fury clawing at his chest. If Steve declared that Marguerite should have been left alone and scared, he didn’t know if he would be able to control himself… but one thing at a time.

Iryna led Francis into a room where the man found Marguerite lying on a bed, propped in semi-sitting position. Her left arm was immobilized to the elbow, wrapped in a white cast, and a big white bandage had taken the place of the blood on her forehead. The sight of the girl’s pale face and the outline of a bruise on her cheekbone made Francis’s stomach twist, but he forced his lips into a smile when her eyes landed on him.

“I’m fine,” Marguerite whispered with a weak smile, only to be interrupted by Yao.

“For the time being, I happen to disagree. You _will_ be fine – with time and proper care. But for now, you aren’t, and you need to give yourself time to recover.”

Yao went on explaining Marguerite’s injuries, both to the girl and Francis, who was having some troubles concentrating on the man’s words. The CT scan was clean, meaning that the concussion that had been Yao’s main concern wasn’t severe, even if Marguerite would have to take it easy for some time. The girl had fractured both the ulna and radio of her left arm, but she had been lucky enough that the fractures weren’t displaced. The rest was mostly deep bruising, aside from a hairline fracture to one rib. All in all, it could have been much worse, Francis kept telling himself – but he still couldn’t smother the feeling of wrongness clawing at his insides.

Marguerite, instead, looked oddly calm. She looked a bit bashful when Yao said that her blood tests had come back and they denoted a slight anaemia and vitamin deficiency, but merely lowered her eyes, she wasn’t as apologetic as Francis would have expected from her.

Her odd behaviour only increased Francis’s uneasiness, but he got an explanation as soon as Yao led him out of the room while Iryna helped Maggie get settled.

“She had to be given a slight anxiolytic. She was getting very nervous as we went on with the scans, that heart-rate wasn’t healthy. Combined with the painkillers, it will keep her calm for a while.”

Francis was ready to relax, but the lines around Yao’s eyes were tight.

“I want you to be aware that I shouldn’t be telling you any of this, but given the circumstances, I need the perspective of somebody who knows Maggie’s family situation. I cannot go into details, but from her medical records Maggie has already been in a similar situation before – all accidents that look perfectly plausible if taken alone, but the full picture they paint is concerning.”

Dread settled heavily in Francis’s stomach, but Yao didn’t give him time to ask for any clarification.

“And this time, there is an unusual amount of bad bruising for a simple tumble down the stairs. I want to make it clear that it’s not impossible that she simply took a bad fall, but just by looking at the bruises I would think more to a beating.”

Francis’s throat felt completely dry, he had to swallow before talking.

“I… I don’t like the way Marguerite’s step-father treats her. He’s neglectful and emotionally abusive, he drinks more than it’s healthy and he’s violent and argumentative. However… according to Marguerite, he wasn’t home tonight, he left for a business trip. If this is true, she must have truly simply fallen down the stairs.”

Yao pursed his lips.

“Not impossible, as I was trying to say. I just wanted to see if there was something more, but if there’s not…”

“But he left her alone and she got hurt!” Francis pressed on, “Can’t he be reported to CPS for this?”

The seed of hope that had blossomed in his chest quickly withered in front of Yao’s tired eyes.

“In another city, maybe.” The man sighed. “Here, they aren’t going to do anything. He’s a single father who has to support himself and a teenaged girl, he cannot rationally be asked to stay all the time with her. Besides, Maggie is fourteen – not of age, but old enough to be left alone for a couple of days. They wouldn’t stir a mess for this unless Maggie herself complained – and even if she did, the odds of her stepfather coming clean unless he can be linked with some physical damage are quite high.”

Francis bit his lower lip to avoid swearing. He desperately wanted to deny Yao’s assessment, but deep down, he knew that he was right, just like Arthur had been some time earlier.

“Her step-father has yet to be contacted, anyway. His reaction could provide a further insight into the matter, but…”

“I’ll call him,” Francis interrupted Yao, “Marguerite gave me the phone number when I filled the paperwork. He’s probably still on a plane, however, I should wait a couple of hours.”

Francis had to ask somebody how to record the call, too. Maybe, if Steve reacted violently to the news, there could be ground to press charges…

“Either way, he’s unlikely to get here before tomorrow,” Yao concluded, “And I want to keep Maggie under observation overnight. You can get back to her, for now. You wouldn’t be allowed to stay for the night as you’re not a family member, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Hundreds of questions were still whirling inside Francis’s mind, but the man bit them back and arranged his features into a smile as he walked back to the room. He quickly composed another message to alert Feliciano of Marguerite’s condition, he didn’t want the boy to worry too much, then stepped back into the room to be welcomed by Marguerite’s shy smile.

The sight of her beaten body made his stomach coil with uneasiness, but the girl didn’t ask him to go away – and the fact that Marguerite had asked him for help was already a huge improvement. In spite of everything, Francis couldn’t let his foul mood erase that.

With a gentle smile, the man took place on a chair next to Marguerite’s bed and started a light chatter in French. The girl seemed too dazed to answer with more than a couple of words, but she was visibly relaxing on the bed, so Francis went on talking until she finally slipped into a slumber, with her lips curled into a slight smile in spite of the dark bruises standing out on her pale skin.

Only then, Francis took out his phone to check what was surely Feliciano’s message.

**<** _I’m glad it’s nothing too serious. Say hi to Maggie from us, we’re all very worried. How is she doing? If she’s not too tired, we’d like to come and see her. I would have PE anyway, Lovi can pick me up after lunch._

Feliciano’s concern didn’t surprise Francis, but the rest of the message did. He knew that the boy had come to care for Marguerite, but for him to even skip school because of that…

 _“You have more people caring for you than you could possibly imagine,”_ Francis told the sleeping form after he had answered affirmatively to Feliciano’s message.

For how much he didn’t want to leave Marguerite alone, he would have to try and call Steve after lunch, Feliciano’s presence would be welcome.

The following hours passed at the same time in a blur and with unbearable slowness. Francis had nothing to distract himself with but observe Marguerite’s breathing and chat a bit with the girl when she woke up when Iryna or another nurse checked on her, while trying to mask the tension that was rising at the prospect of the phone call. Francis didn’t know what was going to happen then, but one thing was for sure: if Steve Morgans suggested anything that might harm Marguerite, he wasn’t going to get away with it.

* * *

 

Maggie had come to the unexpected conclusion that a hospital stay wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Time went by slowly as she slumbered and was periodically woken up, the pain an echo in a corner of her brain but easily ignored. In spite of Maggie’s initial nervousness, now the soft-spoken nurse – often Iryna – who sometimes prodded her and asked questions only filled her with calm.

Or maybe, the serenity was due to Francis’s presence, who hadn’t left Maggie’s side since she had come back from the examinations. The lines constantly lingering on the man’s forehead gave him a haggard appearance, yet his eyes and his smile were soft, almost tender. Maybe she should have, but Maggie couldn’t bring herself to regret asking him to stay – she was too pleasantly dazed to truly ponder negative thoughts.

Awareness slowly started coming back to her after lunch time, along with a pang of concerned surprise when Francis slid out the room with an apology only for his place to be taken by an oddly silent Feliciano.

Maggie blinked, startled.

“Hi?”

“Hi. How are you doing?” Feliciano answered as he sat down on the same chair that had been previously occupied by Francis.

“Not bad. I just slipped and fell down the stairs, hitting my head and breaking my arm. Pretty stupid, isn’t it? But… how do you…”

“Everybody noticed you weren’t at school this morning. Since you weren’t answering the phone, we called Francis to ask him if he had heard from you and he told us what happened.”

Feliciano’s soft smile was odd, it didn’t reach his eyes.

Maggie’s stomach started coiling on itself as the girl finally registered the concern she must have caused – her phone was probably still in her bedroom, she wasn’t used to thinking that people might be alarmed if they didn’t hear from her…

“Oh, I’m…”

“But it’s alright. Francis answered almost immediately, so we didn’t worry too much. I mean, of course we’re sad that you’re hurt, but we knew straight away that you were going to be fine.”

“Well, that’s good. And thank you.”

Had she been more alert, Maggie might have been bothered by Feliciano’s words, but at that moment, her brain was still pleasantly filled with wool and everything seemed acceptable.

“Can I draw on your cast?”

Maggie blinked in surprise, but Feliciano only offered her a blinding smile.

“Sure…” she muttered hesitantly. A corner of her mind told the girl that normal people did that all the time, yet Maggie had never considered such a scenario applied to her.

Feliciano didn’t seem to sense her puzzlement. With the smile still plastered on his lips, he bent down to retrieve his school bag and extracted some markers from a case.

“They’re waterproof, they shouldn’t cause problems! Wait, the cast is waterproof, isn’t it?”

Maggie nodded, and watched in fascination as Feliciano started scribbling on the cast, his forehead slightly creased in concentration. Only some moments later Maggie registered what was odd in the situation.

“Wait, school’s not over yet! Why…”

“I would have had PE, but I decided to skip it. I don’t really like PE, you know? So I got Lovi to take me here, Monday is his free day. But, we almost forgot the flowers! So Lovi went back to get some while I’m here.”

Maggie was left gaping at Feliciano, unable to register his words. The boy flashed her another smile before resuming his work.

“But Feli…” Maggie managed to croak in the end, “You… I mean, thank you for your concern, but school…”

Feliciano waved her off, shaking his head.

“Relax, I don’t often miss school! And it was only PE, I told you. Besides, I’d much rather do this!”

There was something wrong in Feliciano’s reasoning, but Maggie couldn’t put it into words. Not to mention that his presence was actually welcome.

The two teens fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the rustle of Feliciano’s markers against the cast and the boy’s heavy breathing that after some minutes turned into a hummed melody. Maggie basked into the soothing haze, relaxing with each passing minute.

She was almost half-asleep when a sharp intake of breath from Feliciano brought her back to reality.

“How did this happen, anyway?”

Maggie should have expected the question, it was just natural in her current situation. The lie spilled lazily from her lips, easier with each repetition.

“I got up to get some water, but I guess I got dizzy, it must be why I slipped… I don’t remember clearly, but my blood pressure is usually quite low. I often feel dizzy when I get up.”

At that point, Maggie almost believed the lie herself, Steve yelling at her was a distant nightmare.

“Is it true?”

Feliciano’s question sounded rhetorical, but when Maggie met his eyes to offer him a reassuring smile she found the boy’s features hardened in determination.

“Of… of course it’s true,” she stammered, a pang of uneasiness flaring up in her chest. “Why would I…”

Feliciano sighed, lowering his eyes on his work – a gorgeous pattern of red, yellow and orange maple leaves, beautifully detailed and shaded.

“No reason in particular,” the boy murmured after another deep breath, “But… I noticed something about you. You are easily startled. You go pale anytime you see a parent being a bit harsher than usual with his child. And… you seem really, really scared of crossing your step-father.”

Maggie’s chest was heavy, it was as if a bag of concrete was holding her down to the bed. She tried to swallow, but her throat was parched.

“Feli…”

“No, let me finish!” the boy violently shook his head. When his eyes focused again on Maggie, they were bright with unshed tears, but his brow was furrowed in determination. “You know why I noticed this? I noticed this because I do the same. And I used to do it a lot more when I was younger. I was scared of everything. Scared of every single mistake, of any word that might come out an adult’s mouth. Of how they would judge me. And you know why?”

Maggie knew, but she found herself unable to talk, hypnotized by the intensity of Feliciano’s golden eyes. The boy’s features softened along with his voice.

“I was scared because they had made me scared. When I was staying in the orphanage… when I was staying in the orphanage, I ran into some abusive caretakers. They goaded us into obedience with threats, punishments and yells until we were just silent, disciplined ghosts of children.”

Feliciano’s lips curled into a small, sad smile that sent a jolt of pain into Maggie’s heart.

“But I wasn’t good with that. I’ve always been clumsy, you see. Clumsy and lively, I wasn’t any good at keeping quiet. So, the yells turned into something more physical. Sometimes it was just a slap, other times something more. But, since I was such a clumsy child, nobody ever gave a second thought to any bruise. Then, Mama and Papa adopted me, one day I had a breakdown after accidentally shattering a plate and they discovered everything.”

Maggie’s chest was so tight that she could barely draw a single breath, her mind a mess of muffled thoughts. She couldn’t take her eyes off Feliciano’s soft, innocent face. His wide, bright eyes. _How?_ How could anybody hurt him?

The boy took a deep, shuddering breath, his hands curling into fists as they remove the marker from the now finished artwork on Maggie’s cast.

“And the worst thing was… everybody had managed to convince me that I deserved it because I wasn’t perfect. I know how it feels like, I know why you don’t want to say anything. It’s because some monster has beaten into you that you’re worthless and this is what you deserve. But you don’t. I can guarantee you this, you don’t.”

Feliciano’s too bright eyes were staring right into Maggie, bearing holes into her soul. The girl’s head was spinning, her airways were closed off by horror and fear. Somehow, Maggie found the strength to talk.

“Feli…” her voice was pathetically weak, but she forced herself to go on talking. “Feli, I… I don’t really know what to say. I’m so, so sorry that something so horrible happened to you, it’s… you didn’t deserve it, you… there is no way I can make it better only by talking. But, Feli… this isn’t what happened to me. Steve would never lay his hands on me, he’s not… he’s a bit rough around the edges and he’s certainly not affectionate, but it’s nothing like that. I swear he isn’t, Feli, you mistook everything.”

The boy straightened up, away from Maggie.

“But you… Please, you don’t have to defend your step-father. I… I know how hard it is, but I cannot keep silent anymore, not when you were hurt so badly. You have to get away from him, Maggie.”

Maggie’s stomach was churning, she felt like she was going to throw up. Somehow, she still managed to address a gentle smile to Feliciano.

“This isn’t what happened, though. It really isn’t. Steve wasn’t even home… he left this night for a business trip to Amsterdam.”

Feliciano opened his mouth to reply, but Maggie didn’t let him.

“Listen, I know how it looks like. Dr Wang asked me the same question before, but really, it wasn’t Steve. As for the rest… Feli, I’m just shy and awkward. I’m not… _scared_ , I’m just always nervous around people. And…”

Maggie hated herself for what she was about to say. It was the worst betrayal for the trust the boy had granted her – yet, she wasn’t Feliciano. She wasn’t a young child who didn’t know better and had been punished instead of helped by his caretaker, by people who had decided to look after him. She was a teenaged girl who kept lying and disobeying to a person whom the circumstances had forced to look after her. Maggie had no doubt over the fact that she deserved the punishment. And if sometimes Steve was too harsh, well… it still wasn’t his fault. He didn’t deserve the punishment he would have to face if people knew. And anyway, they had only a partial account of the truth. Nobody knew what a despicable liar Maggie was, she couldn’t bring herself to tell them.

Maggie took a deep breath.

“Feli, I’m truly sorry for what happened to you. But… this isn’t like that at all. I think… I think that you projected a bit too much.”

Feliciano flinched as a flicker of doubt rose in his eyes, letting Maggie know that she had stricken the right note. It didn’t make her feel any better.

“I told you that it might be the case, Feli.”

The unexpected voice made Feliciano and Maggie start as they simultaneously turned to the door, where Lovino was standing with a crossed expression and a vase full of blue and lilac hydrangeas in his hands.

“Hey, Maggie,” he said as a greeting, quirking his eyebrows. “This sucks, I’m so sorry you’re hurt. I hope you’ll feel better soon. And that you like flowers, too.”

Maggie barely had the time to thank the boy before he addressed again his younger brother.

“And Feli, don’t look at me like that. I know what you were trying to do, but I already told you that maybe you were jumping to conclusions.”

Maggie’s chest clenched at the lost stare Feliciano addressed to his older brother.

“Feli, I really appreciate what you did,” she murmured, “I can only imagine how hard this must have been for you. So… thank you. And a word will never be enough, but… this really means a lot to me.”

That was true, and it only made Maggie feel worse.

“Yeah…” the boy offered her a wavering smile and sniffled, desperately trying to restrain the tears. “I’m… I’m sorry for talking bad about your step-dad, but… I’m not… I’m not sorry for making sure of this.”

“Thank you,” Maggie repeated, “And thanks for the drawings, too. I… it’s incredible.”

Feliciano smiled again, but Maggie could see how his hands were trembling. She wanted to grasp them, but she didn’t deserve it. Instead, she let Lovino clamp a steadying hand on his younger brother’s shoulder.

A heavy silence fell between them, stretching into the room.

“Thank you so much for coming,” Maggie said in the end, trying to mask the heaviness in her chest with a smile. “I…”

Fortunately, Lovino caught on.

“I guess you’re tired, aren’t you? Feli, we should go, we’ve overstayed our welcome,” he declared, keeping a firm, supporting hand on his brother’s back.

Nobody mentioned how unnaturally bright Feliciano’s eyes were.

“Yeah…” the boy muttered, shaking his head. He quickly gathered his markers before following his brother to the door.

A moment before stepping out, Feliciano halted, turning back to Maggie.

“Uhm… nobody knows about this. So, if you could avoid mentioning it…”

The subdued note in his voice made Maggie’s stomach flip, but she offered the boy her sweetest smile.

“Of course I won’t. And Feli… Thank you, really. This… this means a lot to me.”

After another weak smile, the boy let the door close behind him, leaving Maggie alone with the heart-wrenching implications of what she had just done.

The girl turned to stare at the ceiling without seeing it, trying to regulate her breathing and refusing to let the tears fall.

_Feli, I’m so sorry._

How many years of therapy had she undone, with her callous words? Maggie didn’t want to think about it, but she had to.

_I didn’t have any choice._

Telling Feliciano would have meant getting Steve in troubles, and Steve didn’t deserve that. Maggie was the only one who deserved anything bad. Because if she didn’t… If she didn’t, nothing made sense anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iryna is Ukraine  
> Joshua is an OC (he was already mentioned but I realized that I had never specified this)
> 
> There is something that I feel I need to address. Namely, I know that there are some mistakes, no matter how hard I try. Whenever I re-read a chapter after it has been published, I always find something to correct. I don’t use a Beta for personal reasons (you can PM me if you want a full explanation), so I’m not surprised (even if I do try my best), considering that English isn’t my first language and I’m by no means bilingual, I didn’t start learning English properly until high school and I’ve never spent a long time in an English-speaking country - however, please tell me if the mistakes are so many that they make the reading experience uncomfortable. There’s a difference between ‘oh I noticed some typos but they weren’t too distracting’ and ‘this story was so full of typos that I was cringing every line and got to the end solely because I wanted to see what happened’. By the reviews, I have always thought my story fell in the first category (which is still not okay, I know, but until I have more time and my stress levels have decreased I’ll have to consider it acceptable), but please tell me clearly if it’s not so.
> 
> By the way, I hope I didn’t butcher too much the medical part. My knowledge is limited to the theoretical parts of pharmacology, medicinal chemistry, and other related subjects, but I’m not a doctor and practical aspects keep eluding me, in spite of the research. Moreover, the details of the ER procedure are based mostly on my experience with Italian and Swiss hospitals, so they might be inaccurate for an American hospital.
> 
> This small arc isn’t concluded yet. There is another part from Alfred’s pov that is set a few hours after these events, but I felt like including it here would have been anticlimactic, so you’ll see it next time :)


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m truly sorry for the delay. The further I go, the hardest the story becomes to write as there’s a lot I have to take into consideration.  
> I also realized that it has been over a year since I posted the first chapter, I can hardly believe it… I have to thank you all for the wonderful support you’ve given me, I cannot put into words how much it meant to me. Thank you!
> 
>  **Warnings : References to child abuse.**  
> Entire dialogues in Italics between Francis and Maggie mean they're speaking French.
> 
> I hope you’ll enjoy the chapter, and please review :)

_One more minute._

That was all the time left until the last bell. Alfred’s eyes were glued to the clock, following the movement of its hands, that seemed to be slowing down each second. His teacher’s voice was nothing but a buzzing in the background as Alfred used all his concentration to will the time to go faster, obsessively drumming his fingers on the desk.

That minute seemed to last an entire lifetime, Alfred could feel himself aging older as the time went by with unbearable slowness, but finally, the ringing of the bell drowned out his teacher’s voice. Alfred jumped to his feet and dumped his school material inside the backpack, not even bothering to zip it closed. Before he knew it, he was out of the door and running in the hallway, muttering half-hearted apologies when he accidentally hit somebody. He wanted to scream at the thought of having to stop at his locker, but he needed to be on his best behaviour if he wanted Arthur to drive him to the hospital.

“Hey, Al!”

Alfred turned at the voice, his fists automatically clenching as he forced himself to take a deep breath. His nerves were a second from snapping, and Alyssa certainly wasn’t going to help.

“Yes?” he ground out, glowering at the girl.

Alyssa curved her lips into a saccharine smile and tilted her head to a side in a mockery of innocence.

“Are you all right? You still look… very tense.”

 _‘Tense’_ was an understatement. An odd feeling had closed off Alfred’s gut when he hadn’t seen Maggie in the morning, preventing him from concentrating on anything but the empty spot in front of the girl’s locker, where he had lingered until the very last second. Alfred knew that there could be plenty of reasons for Maggie’s delay, even a simple unheard alarm clock. That hadn’t calmed down the nervous churning of his stomach. There _could_ be reasons, but at the same time, Alfred was acutely aware that tragedy could strike behind every corner.

The fact that being late was completely unlike Maggie certainly hadn’t quelled his concerns. Somehow, Alfred _knew_ that something had happened to her, and he didn’t care if Mrs Cooper didn’t see it as such a vital issue. The disagreement had spurred an intense discussion that had ended up with Alfred getting his phone retired and a disciplinary warning, and it was probably also how Alyssa had become aware of Maggie’s absence. Words travelled fast, inside a high school.

“I’m fine,” Alfred answered dryly, gritting his teeth, “But I have to go now.”

The feeling of dread had only increased when Feliciano had given Alfred the news, he could have sworn that his heart has stopped beating for a moment. Knowing that Maggie wasn’t alone was a small relief – but, on the other hand, Francis might have lied about the severity of her injuries to prevent Alfred and the others from worrying too much. He still held the insufferable belief that they weren’t anything more than children, after all… and that was why Alfred’s high-strung nerves would calm down only after he had verified with his own two eyes that Maggie was fine. And for that, the first step needed was to get out of school.

Unfortunately, Alyssa didn’t seem intentioned to leave him alone. The girl nodded, pursing her lips.

“Is it still about Maggie?” Alyssa gave a small shake of her head. “You’re so nice to worry so much… I can’t believe she didn’t answer the phone, she could have at least let you know that she wasn’t coming… look at you, you’re a wreck.”

Alfred slammed his locker closed, his pulse racing as irritation built up behind his temples.

“I don’t have time for this,” he growled, “I think I had already made this clear: leave Maggie alone. And for the record, she didn’t answer because she couldn’t, she got hurt and she’s at the hospital.”

Alyssa recoiled, her lips curving into an ‘o’ that was shortly covered by perfectly manicured nails.

“Oh, I hope it’s nothing too bad…”

Alfred was almost daring to hope for Alyssa to be reasonable for once, when the girl shrugged.

“But you know, she could have still called you if she really cared, hospital or not. We have cell phones for a reason. This isn’t really an excuse…”

Rage exploded in Alfred’s veins, amplified by the ever-lingering concern that had kept him on edge the entire day.

“Jesus, Alyssa, do you even hear yourself talking?” he snapped, “Maggie is at the hospital, I don’t even really know what really happened to her! And you’re standing here, trying to use this to discredit her? Do you even care at all that she’s hurt? Just fuck off, I don’t have time to waste with you!”

Alfred didn’t wait to see Alyssa’s reaction. With the sound of his thundering heartbeat in his ears, the boy strode away from the locker, barely paying any attention to his surroundings. As he stepped out of the main door, he immediately spotted Dad standing in front of the car and broke into a run to reach him, his chest so tight that he could hardly breathe.

Arthur welcomed Alfred with a hand on his shoulder, helping his backpack off. Alfred talked before his father could even open his mouth.

“I know I got my phone taken away and Mrs Cooper wants to see you to get it back, I know, but please it was an emergency I just _knew_ that there was something wrong and I needed to check on Maggie and I was right, she’s hurt, so please can you just go and take it later and take me to the hospital? This is more important than my phone I-”

“Alfred!”

Arthur’s crisp voice tore through the ringing in Alfred’s ears, making the boy realize that he was hyperventilating.

“Alfred, it’s all right. Calm down.”

Alfred’s hands were trembling. He focused on his father’s reassuring eyes and the warm hands gently grabbing his arms, forcefully taking a few full breaths until his heart-rate slowed down as well.

“Are you feeling any better now?” Arthur asked in the end, in a soothing voice.

Alfred’s answer was a shaky nod. The ill feeling in his stomach hadn’t vanished, but the anger and panic had simmered down, leaving him exhausted and empty – but, above everything, frightened.

Arthur never broke eye-contact.

“Good. Now listen to me: I’ll take you to the hospital now, like I said I would do when you called me with Tolys’s phone. When you’re there, I’ll go and talk to Mrs Cooper and get your phone back. Now get in the car.”

Alfred nodded, letting himself fall into the passenger seat as his father circled the car to get in from the driver’s side.

“I already went to the hospital, by the way,” the man commented as he turned the key in the ignition. “Maggie was asleep, but I talked with Francis. She’s quite banged up, but she’s going to be fine, there’s nothing too serious.”

Alfred nodded slowly, his body finally relaxing at his father’s calming voice. In spite of that, the unsettling feeling of _wrongness_ still lingered. Maggie shouldn’t be hurt at all. And a concussion, on top of that… she was lucky it hadn’t been too severe, but people _died_ for hitting their head. She could have taken a worse hit and died and Alfred would have never seen her anymore… he felt like throwing up.

Trying to distract himself, the boy let his eyes wander across the car until they landed on a flash of white he could see from the rear mirror.

“Oh, you remembered to take the flowers, then?”

Arthur bristled.

“I told you I was going to buy them to gain some time, didn’t I? I keep my word. Daisies, just like you asked. Abel told me they’re fine flowers to bring as a ‘get-well’ wish, even if a bit plain…”

There was something forced in the calm of Arthur’s voice, his knuckles were white. Alfred took a deep breath and clenched his fists.

“Dad,” he started in the most adult-sounding voice he could muster, “Is Maggie truly all right? Don’t lie to me. I know you’re leaving something out, you’re nervous. I’m not a kid, I can handle the truth.”

Arthur stiffened slightly, straightening up.

“Always straight to the point, aren’t you?” he commented with a tired exhalation. “Maggie is as well as she could be. Of course she isn’t fine, but she wouldn’t be in a hospital if she were – however, there’s nothing too serious. The concussion isn’t bad. The most serious issue is her broken arm, and it wasn’t a displaced fracture, she didn’t even need surgery like it often happens in similar cases. Yao wanted to keep her overnight just as a precaution, she’ll be home by tomorrow. I’m just… tired. It has been a long day, and you know how melodramatic Francis can be – I heard from him first, his blabbering was quite concerning.”

A pang of guilt stabbed Alfred’s stomach as he realized that he hadn’t spared a single thought for his father’s reaction – yet, the news must have been quite upsetting. Casual accidents held even a worse implication than they did for Alfred, who had nothing more than a vague recollection of the worst day of their lives.

“I would have called you first, if Mrs Cooper hadn’t taken away my phone,” Alfred grumbled, folding his arms across his chest.

Arthur took a deep breath before answering, tightening his hold on the steering wheel.

“I didn’t want to bring it up now, but this issue needs to be addressed as well. Alfred, I understand that you were concerned, but you still shouldn’t have texted in class. Rules are rules. Moreover, Maggie isn’t in your English class, your reasoning must have sounded like an excuse to Mrs Cooper. You don’t have exactly the cleanest record.”

Alfred hissed, stung by the unfair remark.

“But Maggie’s hurt! And she’s always at school, that’s why I was worried. Can’t you see this?”

Alfred knew that his father was stuck-up about rules, but he was absolutely certain that the present case should be an exception. He had considered his father more reasonable, the boy found himself thinking as anger churned in his stomach.

Arthur’s eyes, however, looked tired, the lines on his face deeper than they usually were.

“I wasn’t trying to scold you. I am well aware that there were attenuating circumstances, this time. But the point still stands that you’re not supposed to use your phone in class at all, no matter what. This is all Mrs Cooper knows, and that’s why she didn’t listen to you.”

“Still not fair,” Alfred grumbled, but when his father didn’t answer, he didn’t drag the argument.

There were so many things wrong that he couldn’t even start to count them – he wanted to yell that Mrs Cooper should think about the safety of her students above petty rules, how unfair her snotty words ( _“If something has happened to another student, it’s not a concern of yours. It’s up to her parents to worry about this. You’ll know what they decide to tell you, and after school hours.”_ ) were, how she hadn’t let Alfred explain that they didn’t apply to Maggie’s case… but after all, could arguing truly fix anything?

If he was honest with himself, Alfred knew that he only risked further angering his father and making him turn the car around. At that moment, his main concern shouldn’t be getting his record straight, but finally seeing Maggie.

Alfred knew that Feliciano and Lovino had already visited the girl. Unfortunately, Arthur hadn’t agreed to Alfred skipping his afternoon classes, but they had settled for him for once missing football. Arthur had been too quick to agree to that, actually. Alfred suspected that his father was afraid he would be too worried to concentrate properly and end up getting hurt in the process. It would have been annoying, hadn’t it resulted in Alfred being able to visit Maggie. He would be the only one, Francis had said that Maggie was tired and more visitors risked being too stressful for her. For how much everybody kept insisting that the girl was, all considered, fine, their behaviour pointed out to a different truth.

For the entire ride to the hospital, Alfred kept bouncing his feet or tapping his fingers over his thighs, unable to stay still. His father graciously avoided to mention it, in spite of the way his jaw tightened with irritation. When, after what felt like a century, the car slowed down in front of the hospital, Alfred was ready to jump out, his stomach flipping with a mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

His father’s sudden shout stopped him.

“Alfred! Wait a minute!”

The sharp seriousness in Arthur’s voice made Alfred freeze and turn back to him. The man’s features were tight, there was something dark in his eyes, yet, when he talked again, his voice was gentle.

“Alfred, I know that this is hard for you, and that you must be worried. This is perfectly understandable, I’m not blaming you for being shaken. However, in spite of not being too badly hurt, Maggie’s at the hospital and she needs to stay calm. It’s imperative that you don’t get her upset.”

Alfred opened his mouth to talk, but Arthur raised his hand.

“Which means, you must not show her how worried you are. You know how sensitive she is, seeing this would only strain her. I know that I’m asking a lot of you, and I’ll understand if you don’t feel like you can handle this. You can visit Maggie another day, if you aren’t calm enough.”

Alfred swallowed, cold spreading inside him at his father’s words. He refused to lower his eyes.

“I understand. And I can handle it, Dad. I’ll be at my best behaviour, I promise. I just want to see Maggie.”

Because Maggie’s wellbeing was far more important than Alfred’s fear, at that moment. And Alfred wanted to make sure of that, and he wanted Maggie to be aware of it as well.

An odd glint went through Arthur’s eyes, his features softened as he kept staring at Alfred.

“Of course you will,” he said, offering the boy a soft smile that was quite unlike him. “You’re really not a child anymore, are you?”

“Duh, I haven’t been in a long time!” Alfred protested, puffing his chest, but his father had already turned away from him to step out of the car.

Alfred followed short, deciding to archive Arthur’s odd behaviour for a following moment. Clutching the bunch of daisies to his chest, the boy swiftly strode behind his father through the hospital. His heart was racing again. He tried to focus on evening out his breathing, keeping his eyes stubbornly fixed on the tiles on the floor instead of taking note of his surroundings.

Arthur finally stopped in front of a closed door and turned to Alfred, regarding him with a questioning look.

The boy took a deep breath, willing his pulse to stop racing.

“I’m ready.”

In spite of his words, Alfred’s heart leapt into his throat as Arthur opened the door. The room was bright an airy, occupied by a single bed in the middle, two armchairs and a small closet. The prevalent white left Alfred an impression of sterile rejection, slightly softened by the presence of a window that, at least, showed a glimpse of blue. What the boy immediately focused on, however, was the figure in the middle of the bed. Maggie’s slim body was covered by a white sheet, the contrast with the large bed made her look even frailer than usual. Under the harsh light, the girl’s skin was pasty and her lips paler than Alfred had ever seen them, creating an even more evident contrast with the purple outline of a bruise on her right cheekbone. The sight of a big bandage barely hidden under Maggie’s bangs made Alfred’s stomach churn, the plaster enveloping the arm resting on the girl’s stomach made him want to scream at the _wrongness_ of the situation.

Right then, Maggie turned her head, her lips curving upwards when her tired eyes focused on Alfred. The boy forced himself to reciprocate the smile, stepping closer to Maggie’s bed just as Francis got up from the armchair. Alfred barely realized his greeting or when he walked out of the room with Arthur, his brain completely focused on Maggie.

“Ta-da!” he commented in a forcefully cheerful voice, “Here are the flowers!”

In an exaggerated gesture, the boy thrust the daisies in front of Maggie’s nose, waiting for the girl to slowly raise her good hand.

“Daisies…” she muttered, a soft smile gracing her lips. “They’re beautiful.”

“Like your name!”

_Like you._

Alfred flushed at the thought, suddenly aware of the true meaning of the words he had uttered. It wouldn’t have been such an uncommon comment, coming from him, but with Maggie, it took a completely different meaning.

“Well, I’d better put them in the water, anyway,” he said hurriedly, hoping to cover his embarrassment as he jerked up from the chair.

After taking the flowers from Maggie’s hands, he spotted a big glass full of water in front of the window – for the time being, it would have to do. Alfred took care of rearranging the daisies as well as he could, stealing a glance at the vase of hydrangeas next to them – that had to be a courtesy of Feliciano and Lovino. They were beautiful, the boy noticed with a pang of envy, and maybe more sophisticated, but not as personal as Alfred’s daisies. Even if the lilac ones had probably been taken as a reference to Maggie’s eyes…

“Thank you so much, Al,” Maggie said feebly, bringing the boy’s attention back to her.

Another sign of Feliciano’s passage, Alfred noticed, was the drawing decorating Maggie’s cast.

“Aw, I wanted to sign it…” the boy complained as he walked back to the bed, his features contracted in a pout.

Maggie flashed a brief look at her arm, her brow furrowing in confusion before she understood what Alfred was saying. The boy’s stomach twisted. No matter what everybody said, Maggie was far from fine.

“Oh… I think that Feli left some space,” the girl muttered, slightly shifting the cast so Alfred could see the white among the drawn leaves.

Alfred hummed in assent and took out a red marker. He would’ve liked to write a bigger signature on Maggie’s arm, but that would have to do. Besides, he had to admit, Feliciano’s floral decoration was prettier than a bunch of signatures.

“This was nice of Feli,” the boy commented lightly, admiring how his name didn’t disrupt the harmony of the rest of the drawing. “Damn, sometimes I wish I could draw as well as he does…”

“Oh, but it’s fine,” was the immediate, feeble protest. “I… thank you for leaving your signature. It… it really means a lot. Thank you.”

Alfred’s heart skipped a beat at Maggie’s words, an odd warmth welled up inside his chest and flushed his cheeks. It was only a couple of words, yet his hands were sweaty.

The strange giddiness suddenly evaporated when Alfred raised his eyes to Maggie’s face. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting the girl to look rested and energic, but there were shadows in her eyes that spoke of something deeper than exhaustion.

Alfred’s own features tightened, his expression growing serious as his fingers brushed Maggie’s hand.

“Hey. Something wrong? Aside from the obvious, I mean.”

The small smile that blossomed on Maggie’s lips at the quip was short-lived, soon replaced by a sombre expression.

“It’s… nothing, really. It’s just… you’re all being so incredibly nice to me, and I… I’m not used to it.”

Maggie’s eyes accurately avoided crossing Alfred’s, making an unpleasant cold spread inside his chest. He took a deep breath, straightening up.

“Am I making you uncomfortable? Would you rather be left alone?”

That was the last thing Alfred wanted, even less after seeing the troubled emotional state the girl was in. But he knew that he couldn’t put himself first – not when it came to Maggie, at least.

The girl’s eyes immediately widened, her head snapping back to Alfred.

“Oh, no, of course not! I really love your company, and it was nice of you to visit me! I just…” Maggie’s voice trailed off as she nibbled her lower lip – once again, bringing Alfred to notice how unnaturally wan it was.

It made his stomach constrict, but at the same time, he didn’t think that Maggie had lied about the origins of her uneasiness.

“What is it, then?” Alfred asked, gently tightening his old on the girl’s hand.

Maggie waited a moment before answering. When she did, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I don’t deserve this. I did nothing to deserve you all taking care of me…”

Alfred’s chest constricted at the quiet resignation in Maggie’s voice. He didn’t know how to deal with that, he almost wanted to shake the girl, but it definitely wouldn’t be the best solution. He turned his head a small degree, half-hoping for Francis to step into the room, but he was alone.

Alfred took a deep breath, clenching his free hand into a fist.

“You don’t have to _do_ something to deserve somebody taking care of you,” he stated, trying to make his voice sound as firm as he could. As soon as the words seeped out of his mouth, Alfred knew that they wouldn’t be enough.

“And it’s not like you aren’t doing anything, anyway,” he added, “You’re always super nice and sweet and you have… actually helped me out a lot, even if maybe you cannot realize this. The way you listen to me, the things you tell me… you made me reflect on a lot of things, you know. Realize that I had to reconsider my approach, sometimes. I feel like… you’re really giving a lot to me.”

Alfred felt out of breath after his rushed speech, almost dizzy. Naked in a way that was uncomfortable, and, at the same time, lighter. And Maggie was staring at him, her eyes wide, as if unable to grasp what he had just said.

That was as close to a declaration of love as the boy could ever get, he suddenly realized, blushing violently.

“So, anyway,” he went on, offering the girl an awkward smile, “I… like spending time with you, okay? Not only because you’re helping me out with stuff. I just like staying with you, I like talking with you. And… this isn’t a bother. Like, it sucks that you’re hurt and everything, but… I’m just glad you’re going to be okay, and I don’t mind if you need some help in the meantime because… because you’re my friend. Got it?”

 _‘Friend’_ left an odd aftertaste on the tip of Alfred’s tongue, but it wasn’t the right moment to reflect on that. The ghost of a smile that finally appeared at the corner of Maggie’s lips was all he could ask for, for the time being.

“Thank you,” the girl whispered.

There was still something odd in her eyes, something haunted, but Alfred didn’t know how to address it. And maybe, he realized with an unpleasant pang to his stomach, it wasn’t the right moment to dwell on that, either. The best he could do was to make Maggie relax.

“Man, I can’t believe this,” he commented with a shake of his head, relaxing on the armchair. “You play hockey and get off with nothing more than a couple of bruises, you climbed that tree a couple of weeks ago and didn’t even get a scratch… but now you fall down the stairs and end up in the hospital. There’s some irony here…”

The breathless laughter Maggie offered in response made her face tighten with pain (bruised ribcage, if Alfred had to take a guess. He _didn’t_ want to think about how much worse such an injury could have ended), but her voice sounded lighter when she spoke again.

“Well, that’s just me. I have never gotten hurt doing something dangerous, you know? But stupid things like slipping down the stairs or on ice land me in the hospital. Go figure…”

_She has_ _been hurt badly enough to be hospitalized before?_

In spite of the sudden lurch of his stomach, Alfred bit back the question and tried to steer the conversation to a happier topic, just sprinkling it with innocent questions from time to time in an attempt to know more about Maggie’s condition.

By the time the creak of the door announced Arthur and Francis coming back into the room, Alfred knew that Maggie would be home from the school for the entire week and her cast was coming off in four weeks. By then, her ribs and other injuries would be healed as well.  The most important thing, however, was the way Maggie had progressively relaxed, the light in her eyes growing in spite of the physical weariness.

“Visiting hours are almost over,” Arthur announced as he laid a hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “We’d better go before we get kicked out. We’ll see you tomorrow, Maggie.”

Alfred almost wanted to protest, but an odd heaviness had taken hold of his limbs. He parted from Maggie with a smile and followed his father out of the room.

“Is Francis staying for the night?” he asked as Arthur closed the door behind him, realizing that Francis wasn’t with them.

“Yes. Maggie’s step-father couldn’t come back fast enough and he was tied-up with work, he agreed to let Francis stay with Maggie. He was surprisingly pleasant about this entire matter, actually.”

Alfred found himself nodding. He had forcefully avoided thinking about that jerk of Maggie’s step-dad until that moment – but, apparently, the man could be reasonable if the situation truly called for it. Alfred had underestimated him. He still didn’t like him, but at least, part of his concern for Maggie was cleared, now that he knew she wasn’t going to be left alone.

“And did you talk to Mrs Cooper?” Alfred asked, trying to shake himself.

An odd glint went through Arthur’s eyes.

“Of course I did. Here.” The man extracted Alfred’s phone from the pocket of his trench coat and threw it to the boy. “You’re not in troubles anymore, by the way. Mrs Cooper is now aware of the cause of your behaviour, and, even if she has still remarked on how you should have explained yourself without getting so heated, she has lifted your punishment. If something like this ever happens again, just remember that talking calmly and being respectful is what brings results.”

There was something more, Alfred could tell it by the lines around his father’s eyes and mouth, but he found himself too worn-out to inquire any further. He had done nothing more than chatting for the entire afternoon, yet, a bone-deep weariness had taken hold of his limbs. Alfred wanted nothing but have a good dinner and then sink in his bed, even if it was still quite early.

“And how are you feeling?”

Arthur’s question took Alfred aback, and even more did his tentative, gentle voice. The intensity of his father’s stare made him feel naked.

_How am I feeling?_

Alfred had been terrified. Even after seeing that Maggie wasn’t badly hurt, a corner of his mind couldn’t help but linger on what could have been, on how, without any warning, she could’ve been _gone_. Forever out of his reach. And Alfred hadn’t suspected anything, until that morning.

Alfred shook his head, swallowing to try and alleviate the lump in his throat.

“I’m… Can I sleep in your room, tonight?”

Alfred hated himself for how small and frail his voice came out. He hated himself even more for the hot tears pressing against his eyelids. He hadn’t slept in his father’s room since the previous year, and that hadn’t been for him, but because he had seen Dad distraught after a fight with Alistair. He had used to do it a lot as a child, however.

Arthur nodded. There was an odd, regretful look in his eyes, but the smile curling his lips was welcoming. Alfred knew that he understood. Just like him, he was painfully aware of how Alfred could have lost Maggie that morning, it could have been so little – a slightly different angle of the fall, the girl hitting her head harder… it was a matter of seconds, at times. Alfred wouldn’t be able to forget it.

* * *

 

Maggie didn’t know how Francis had managed to convince Steve to let him stay with her, she had been informed of the conversation only after it had happened, but she couldn’t deny how being with Francis lifted an enormous weight off her chest. She constantly reminded herself that she _deserved_ being hurt, she shouldn’t have disobeyed or lied to Steve, but the mere thought of the angry lines sculpted on his face and the sweaty hands touching her skin closed off the walls of Maggie’s throat.

Francis was better, he was soothing and gentle, always at Maggie’s side without being too overbearing. Iryna was the same, collected and with her lips curved into an encouraging smile that put Maggie completely at ease. By the following day, the girl could declare that hospitals didn’t scare her anymore. Even the sight of Dr Wang stepping into the room for the last check-up didn’t send Maggie’s pulse racing with panic.

A knot rose to her stomach as Francis started collecting the flowers, the blue and lilac hydrangeas reminding Maggie of her inexcusable lie, but she couldn’t show her turmoil to Francis, who would be kind enough to take care of her for the next few days, until Steve came back. The sight of Alfred’s daisies helped as well.

As she rested her head on the car’s window, her eyes scrolling over the city without taking anything in and her ears filled with the melody of a slow French song coming from the radio, Maggie desperately tried to sort through her feelings. She still hated herself for what she had done to Feliciano, but she couldn’t forget Alfred’s words, either. She had been too groggy and dazed to properly register their meaning the previous day, but since she had woken up, the girl couldn’t stop mulling over them. She knew Alfred well enough to be sure that he hadn’t been lying, and that made her stomach twist in an odd, not completely unpleasant way. Helping Alfred meant that Maggie wasn’t useless, maybe that she could even be allowed to spend time with him without feeling too guilty about it. Even if she _had_ hurt Feliciano…

_“Penny for your thoughts?”_

Francis’s gentle voice shook Maggie out of her contemplations. The man was looking at her from the corner of his eyes, a relaxed smile tugging at his lips. His posture was mostly devoid of tension, as well.

 _“Oh, it’s nothing. I was just… everything happened so quickly and this is really odd,”_ Maggie stammered, uttering words closer to the truth than she would have liked, not having had enough time to make up a lie.

 _“I don’t mind you staying with me for a couple of days, you know,”_ Francis reassured the girl for the umpteenth time.

Maggie had finally accepted that he was a sincere as Alfred had been. She couldn’t understand the reason, yet, Francis’s demeanour had never made her regret the decision she had taken in that moment of weakness. The man _was_ upset, Maggie couldn’t ignore the faint shadows under his eyes that pointed to a sleepless night, and there was still something hard in his features, but he had looked much more unsettled before knowing that Maggie would be allowed to stay with him. Not only he didn’t seem to mind, he almost looked like he was glad about it. Maggie couldn’t possibly explain that, but she couldn’t deny that she didn’t mind one bit, either.

The following days did nothing but cement the girl’s impression. The time passed by oddly, stretching lazily only to later rush by before Maggie could even realize it. She slept a lot, more than she ever remembered doing, but Francis never let her feel lazy or guilty about it, taking care of the girl’s needs with his lips constantly curled into a smile. Oddly enough, Maggie had hardly ever seen him so relaxed, it was almost as if taking care of her was completely natural for the man. Sometimes, Maggie found herself wondering if that was how having a father felt like. The outrageous thought was immediately banished to a corner of the girl’s mind, but the sensation lingered.

Francis wasn’t the only constant presence for those couple of days. Immediately after school, Maggie’s room was filled with visitors, flowers and chocolate. Alfred spent every free minute he had at Maggie’s side, going home only after dinner, and the others often visited as well, stopping for a chat or to help Maggie catch up with schoolwork. Maggie would have wanted to feel bad about it, she knew that she should have, but there was nothing in the people around her that suggested annoyance, only a dream-like sequence of smiles and laughter and friendly banter.

Feliciano visited every day as well. The first time he stepped inside the room, Maggie’s stomach coiled in shame and the walls of her throat tightened, making her head spin, but Feliciano was smiling. There was nothing in him that reminded the trembling, frail boy Maggie had seen at the hospital. Part of her almost wondered if it had all been a dream. The rational part of the girl’s mind immediately rebuked that it was real, and in spite of that, Feliciano didn’t seem as badly affected as Maggie had feared. He was probably faking, a corner of her mind whispered mockingly, but at the same time, there was nothing Maggie could do about it except for telling the truth. Maybe, she could find another way to help Feliciano, just like she had helped Alfred. Maggie still didn’t know how, but the cheerful atmosphere around her made her feel hopeful, and even the hydrangeas on the drawer, surrounded by other flowers and the bunch of daisies that was always on the front line, didn’t seem so menacing anymore.

Too tired to question anything, Maggie basked in the pleasant haze, letting herself be lulled into tranquillity by the welcoming attitude of the people around her.

The dream ended on Friday afternoon, when Maggie was harshly brought back to reality by the dreaded sound of a voice that sent her pulse racing.

_Steve?_

Maggie couldn’t make out the words yet, but the voice was unmistakable, washing over her like a cold shower along with the steps that were heading towards the room. Suddenly, Maggie took conscience of everything wrong in her situation: she was thankfully dressed, but that was probably the only thing Steve would approve of.

Erika perched on the edge of the mattress at Maggie’s right would probably be excused, and so would Natalya, sitting straight on a chair next to the bed. Steve wouldn’t find anything wrong in the homework spread over the comforter, either. The history book opened almost in front of Maggie, right on Tolys’s lap, was a different story. Ivan standing in a corner of the room, with his arms folded across his chest and his neutral expression easily mistakable for a sullen or even menacing one, wouldn’t help. Even worse were Feliks and Alfred, their fingers intertwined in Maggie’s hair as Feliks was trying to teach Alfred to French-braid it. Only a month before, the feeling would have left Maggie stiff with uneasiness. Now, the reason all her muscles suddenly tightened was a completely different one.

“Oh, sorry! Did I hurt you?” Alfred asked, stilling.

Maggie took a deep breath, relaxing her shoulders and willing her mind to concentrate over the buzzing in her ears.

“It’s fine, you just tugged at my hair a bit. But it’s normal when you’re trying to do something with it.”

No matter what, Maggie couldn’t show scared she was. As the steps walked closer to the door and the voices raised in volume, the girl realized that, even more than Steve’s actions being uncovered, she feared how his rage would affect the boys. The girl had enough faith to know he wouldn’t hurt them in a normal mood, but if he was even slightly intoxicated…

Fortunately, Steve’s voice sounded completely calm as he gave brief answers to Francis’s questions. When the door was opened, the time seemed to freeze. Maggie’s heart leapt into her throat, she just barely managed to force her stiff lips into her smile.

Steve’s reaction caught her by surprise. Without sparing a single glace to the other occupants of the room, the man quickened his pace to reach Maggie, his features slack with shock.

“Oh, Jesus, I can’t believe this…” he muttered as his hands hovered over the girl’s face, touched her hair and shoulders. “I just… You gave me a heart-attack, sweetheart. When I heard you had been hurt…”

Steve’s voice faded into a buzzing in the background, it seemed to come from far away as the sudden drop of tension made Maggie’s head spin.

_Is he sincere?_

Maggie couldn’t tell. She knew that Steve had never meant to hurt her so badly, but she also knew that he _had_ wanted to punish her. She didn’t know what to think, her ears were ringing and her thoughts merged into a muffled buzzing. The gentle touch of Alfred’s hand on her back brought the girl back to reality, followed by the boy hesitant voice.

“Maggie? Are you…”

“I’m fine,” the girl answered as firmly as she could, forcing air into her lungs in a shuddering breath. She had talked for Alfred, but her eyes were fixed on Steve. That could play to her advantage. “It was just a stupid accident. I…”

“You must have been scared,” Steve commented with a shake of his head, gentler than Maggie had ever heard him.

The girl could only nod. A huge lump had taken residence into her throat, stealing away any word.

Visibly unnerved by the brief moment of sentimentality, Steve straightened up and turned back to Francis.

“I really have to thank you for taking care of her,” he said.

It had to be the most pleasant tone he had ever used with Francis, yet, Maggie read the distaste clearly written in Steve’s rigid posture and in the way his left hand was slight trembling, itching to close into a fist.

If he noticed something, Francis didn’t let it show.

“It wasn’t absolutely a problem,” he answered smoothly, his lips curled into a pleasant smile. “Marguerite is just a pleasure to be around, she’s such a good girl… and either way, I couldn’t have possibly left her alone when she was hurt. There’s no need to thank me.”

Steve gave a jerky nod, then ran a hand through his hair, sighing.

“Well, but I do thank you. This was just…” he shook his head. “I would have never thought it could happen, but I am glad that Maggie had something she could turn to.”

Alfred’s hand on Maggie’s back stiffened, but Feliks tugged it down, and the boy said nothing. Maggie would have to thank him, later. She would also have to thank Alfred for being so collected, she knew that it was probably taking a lot out of him. Nobody commented on Steve words, actually. Maggie didn’t know if it was a positive or a negative sign, but she wasn’t left the time to dwell over it.

“Ready to go back home?” Steve asked, extending his hand towards the girl.

Maggie nodded and let the man help her to her feet, while the people around her started gathering all the books and notebooks and muttering their goodbyes. Alfred was the one who handed Maggie her bag as Francis reported to Steve all the details of Dr Wang’s diagnosis.

“I’ll come as soon as I can,” Alfred muttered, softly enough to prevent Steve from hearing.

The man was still holding an unusually tame behaviour, nodding along Francis’s words. He wrapped an arm around Maggie’s shoulders as support and kept ignoring the other teens in the room until he had to step out, only to find his way blocked by Ivan’s imposing frame.

Maggie stiffened along with Steve, her good hand clenching around the fabric of her skirt.

_What is he…_

Ivan offered Steve a wide smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“You take good care of Maggie, da? She’s my best player. I hope she be back to team soon,” he said in a conversational tone, but the glint in his eyes was almost menacing, and the Russian accent thicker than Maggie had ever heard it, as fake as the bad grammar.

Steve squared his shoulders as he walked past the boy.

“Of course I will,” he rebuked gruffly, with his jaw set. He kept looking at Ivan out of the corner of his eyes for the entire corridor, relaxing only when the boy was out of sight.

Francis was the only one who walked them to the door, still talking about how glad he was that he had been able to help Maggie and how he would be just a call away for the following days as well.

When Francis suggested coming over to keep an eye on Maggie while Steve was at work, Maggie felt her step-father stiffen as if he wanted nothing but hit the other man – but all that came out of Steve’s mouth was a forced _“We’ll see how she’s feeling in the next few days.”_

Maggie finally understood the reason for Steve’s good behaviour when, downstairs, they passed Joshua and Arthur, immersed in an apparently pleasant conversation. Joshua quickly took his leave from Arthur and stepped next to Steve. Maggie wondered if anybody else could see how unctuous the smile on his thin features looked, or if she had just imagined the odd glint in his eyes that made her skin crawl with uneasiness. Joshua’s presence, however, was one of the few things that kept Steve in line, so Maggie should be grateful for it.

In spite of the knowledge, the girl was even more thankful when Joshua left her and Steve at the door of their own house. The mocking wink he addressed Maggie made her stomach flip, but once the man was gone, her attention had to be focused on a different issue.

The moment the door closed behind Steve with a thud, the man’s expression fell.

“So,” he started, in a cold voice that felt like a punch to Maggie’s chest.

The girl found herself unable to draw a single intake of breath as Steve’s eyes slowly ran over her frame, dark with suppressed anger.

“That’s how it is, uh?” the man said in the end, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly, you should know it. You should understand that what you did is so over the line that I don’t even fucking know what to say. You’re not allowed to go out with boys. But especially, not behind my back. And you know that I wouldn’t have hurt you so badly if I hadn’t been drunk… that is your fault as well. If I need to drink so much, it’s because of you, but not everybody would understand it. You do, right?”

Maggie couldn’t take her eyes away from Steve’s hands. They were clenching and unclenching, begging to hit her, but they stayed next to the man’s legs.

The girl forced herself to nod, only half-registering when the muscles of her neck moved.

“I didn’t say anything,” she confirmed in a pathetically small voice, hating herself for how she was giving away her fear.

Steve huffed.

“Well, that’s the fucking minimum you could do. I can’t believe you’re such an attention whore… did you really need to draw so much attention to yourself?”

The words felt like a stab. Maggie stiffened and raised her head, ready to defend her actions, to explain why calling Francis was the only way to go to the hospital and make everything easier for Steve, as well… the words died in her throat when her eyes landed on the revolted sneer twisting Steve’s features.

_Maybe he’s right. Maybe I could have thought of something else…_

The girl hugged herself with her good arm, gritting her teeth when she felt wetness prickling at her eyes.

_I’m pathetic._

Francis, however, hadn’t thought so. Maggie swallowed around the lump in her throat and kept her head high.

Steve sighed, shaking his head in disgust.

“Well, nothing that can be done about this, now. At least you knew how to keep your fucking mouth shut… and tell me, instead. Which one of those little cunts around you was your boyfriend?”

Maggie’s heart skipped a beat.

She wished she had heard wrong, but Steve’s words were unmistakable. And so was the cruel glint in his eyes, his clenched fists.

“None of them.”

Maggie heard the words as if they hadn’t even come out of her mouth. They felt like they were coming from far away, but surprisingly firm. In spite of the way her chest felt tight and her legs weak, Maggie forced herself to stay straight and look at Steve in the eyes.

“I don’t have a boyfriend. I was helping a friend with his homework the other day, and then we went for a walk in the park, but he wasn’t here, today.”

Maggie could feel the blood roaring in her ears, her heart thundering so loudly that it was a miracle Steve couldn’t hear it.

Even when rage distorted Steve’s features, she kept holding his gaze.

Deep down, Maggie knew that Steve would have hurt Alfred without listening to any reason or even the fact that he wasn’t actually her boyfriend. She was also aware that Steve’s tough upbringing played a heavy hand in his behaviour, that it wasn’t truly his fault, but, no matter the reason, she couldn’t let Alfred be hurt. What happened to her didn’t matter.

Maggie didn’t utter another word, letting the silence expand around them as she waited for the blow that was sure to come. Her eyes automatically closed when Steve raised his clenched hand.

The only thing that happened, however, was a loud crash against the wall followed by a string of swears.

When Maggie dared to open her eyes, Steve had his back turned to her.

“You know what? Go back to your room, you stupid harlot. You’ve had enough for this time. I can’t believe you’re so fucking dumb… You should know that the only thing your mystery boy wants is to fuck you to hell and back. When one day he gets tired of waiting and takes what he wants… well, you’d better not come crying to me, then. I fucking warned you. Now, get your fucking ass out of my face and to your room before I change my mind and give you the trashing you deserve!”

Maggie didn’t need to be told twice. Once in her room, she closed the door and collapsed against it, her heart hammering in her chest and against her ribs, making them pulse with pain. It would have been a lot worse, if Steve had had his way.

Maggie wanted to be thankful for the concession… yet, as soon as the fog around her mind lifted, she couldn’t help but analyse the last few moments. Steve had been absolutely furious, he had been trembling… but, there had also been a note of fear in his voice. Maggie couldn’t deny it.

_He knows that there are people watching over me. He already went overboard… stepping over the line so soon could have meant something bad for him._

The realization settled in with the weight of a stone, accompanied by a dizzying wave of gratitude.

It was wrong. Maggie _knew_ that she was wrong and Steve was right. But she was also tired.

The girl finally let the tears run freely down her cheeks as she got up and stammered to reach Kumajiro. She pressed the bear against her chest, trying to soothe the increasing sparks of pain in her ribcage, but she wasn’t truly registering them. The only thing Maggie could feel, at that moment, was a mind-numbing gratitude.

For the first time since Chloé had died, she didn’t have to be scared.

* * *

 

In the aftermath of Maggie’s injury, Alfred had ended up sleeping for an entire week in his parents’ bed. Maybe it was pathetic, but hearing his father’s rhythmic breathing as he tried to fall asleep helped Alfred calm down the dark thoughts whirling around his mind. He had come so close to losing Maggie… Arthur didn’t seem to know what to say, but he never turned down or mocked Alfred.

Fortunately, Alfred’s nightmares never turned into reality, and Maggie’s health slowly improved. A new paranoia surged in Alfred’s chest as he watched the girl walk away with her awkward step-father, but Feliks’s hand on his wrist reminded him that stirring up troubles would only hurt Maggie.

In spite of Alfred’s deepest fears, the girl didn’t seem any worse when he sneaked into her house the following day, and even the winces of pain that rippled through her face from time to time at a wrong movement decreased to almost nothing over the following days.

Alfred still couldn’t forget.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he complained one day, as he fixed the flowers in front of his mother’s grave. He had gone the graveyard alone, telling his father he would be at Kiku’s. He didn’t even know why he had lied, but he had wanted a moment for himself.

“I worry so much for Maggie…” he told his mother, “And that’s… I mean, I worry for all my friends. But somehow, Maggie is different. And it’s not only for how much I worry about her. When I stay with her, it’s almost like I’m in a different dimension. You know that I like physical affection, don’t you? I mean, I guess you do. Your hugs are something I truly remember, you know? But, that would be normal because I’m your son. Dad told me that you hugged other people a lot, too. And I’m the same. But when I touch Maggie… it’s different. It’s more meaningful, somehow. And she started letting me do her hair because with a broken arm she can’t, and the first time, I thought I was going to stop breathing. And it’s stupid, but it’s not.”

Alfred stopped to take a breath, his eyes fixed on his mother’s smiling face.

“How do you know when you’re in love with a person? I can’t stop looking at her because she’s stunning. It’s everything about her. The way she smiles, the way she rocks on her feet when she’s nervous... I can’t stop listening to her, and all I want is to spend all my time with Maggie. But, more than that, I really want to make her happy. And if I see she’s happy… than I’m ecstatic too, you know? Is this how being in love feels like?”

Predictably, Amelia didn’t offer any answer. She just kept staring at Alfred from the picture, smiling wildly. The older Alfred got, the more he became conscious of how young his mother had truly been when she had died. Looking at her bright eyes reminded Alfred that there was a time limit for everything.

Sighing, the boy got to his feet and dusted off his knees. In those moments of doubt, he was acutely aware that his mother was missing. He could talk to Laura, like he had other times, or maybe even Erzsébet… but it wasn’t truly the same.

However, Alfred still has a parent left. For how much he would have preferred to discuss his love life and how to behave around Maggie with a woman, Arthur was going to listen to him. And, more importantly, wasting time wouldn’t help anybody.

After a last farewell to his mother, Alfred swiftly walked out of the graveyard and towards his house, progressively quickening his pace until he was almost running. Now that he had taken his decision, any single minute of delay felt an unbearable waste. By the time he reached his house, Alfred was almost out of breath. In single-minded determination, he rushed inside and towards the living room, where he could hear Arthur’s voice coming from.

“Dad!” he called, “Dad, how did you know you were in love with Mom?”

When two pairs of shocked eyes welcomed his rushed entrance into the living room, Alfred realized that Arthur talking meant he wasn’t alone.

“Oh. Well. Hi, Francis.” the boy stammered as he fidgeted on his feet, suddenly self-conscious.

The man quirked his brow, hiding his grin behind the rim of a raised teacup.

“Hello.”

Alfred consoled himself with the knowledge that it could have been somebody worse than Francis – who, in truth, had taken it better than Arthur, who was still gaping at Alfred, his hand paralyzed in the gesture of lifting the teacup from its saucer.

“How… why this question?” he stammered in the end, his eyes never leaving Alfred.

The boy felt the heat rise to his cheeks. _Why_ had he been so hasty? He was about to backtrack and take refuge in his room, but Francis preceded him.

“Isn’t this obvious? I’m so glad you finally realized this, Alfred. I was afraid you two were going to dance around one another for longer than your parents did…”

“Francis! Stop mocking him!”

For once, Alfred had to side with his father on the debate.

“Uhm, can’t you just answer, please?” he begged pathetically, shifting from foot to foot.

_Damn me and my rushed decisions._

He was afraid that his face was going to explode, given how hot it was.

Arthur shook his head.

“That’s… it’s not so easy. I don’t…”

“He didn’t even realize it a first,” Francis supplied in a gleeful voice, smirking. “It took him forever to sort through his feelings. Believe me, I had to…”

In any other moment, Alfred would have loved mocking Arthur along with Francis, but that was too important.

“Yeah, okay,” he interrupted Francis, clicking his tongue in impatience. “I’m… dude, sorry, I know you’ve had a lot of lovers and all so you’re kind of a love expert, but… this isn’t the same. It’s not like you’ve ever had a stable relationship or have ever been truly in love, is it? So, I want to hear from Dad for this.”

Francis and Arthur froze at the same moment.

Francis recovered first.

“Well, I can’t say you’re wrong,” he commented, his features softening. There was an odd melancholic glint in his eyes. “But this isn’t something so hasty. Sit down.”

Alfred did as he was told, taking place on the armchair Francis had pointed to, in front of the two men.

“So?” he asked then.

Arthur sighed. He ran a hand through his hair before talking.

“This… it’s not so easy. I don’t even know when I realized I was in love with your mother. She was just… a force of nature, always so bright and lively. The time I spent with her was the best time of my week, but it wasn’t only that. I admired her. There was a physical component, clearly, but it’s only a small part of it. I just… wanted to stay with her. Wanted to see her happy with her life, but I also wanted that happiness to include me. I… this is hard to explain. I wanted to make her happy, but this is actually quite reductive. What I truly wanted… was to build something together. When I realized that, I also realized that it wasn’t only an infatuation, but I was truly in love with your mother.”

Silence fell after Arthur words. Alfred stared at him, mesmerized, as he tried to let everything sink in. He had never seen such a soft, almost regretful expression on his father’s face. Was that how he felt for Maggie? Alfred thought so, but, at the same time, his father’s expression made it sound so _big_ …

“However, these are the feelings of a person more mature than you, Alfred,” Francis intervened gently, “You’re still very young, maybe you need some more time to sort through _your_ feelings.”

Alfred found himself nodding, looking down at his knees. Maybe Francis was right, but at the same time…

“And what if I… I mean, hypothetically speaking, what if it’s… like that for me, too?” he asked, and felt pathetic for his wording.

Arthur shook his head, but when he talked, his voice was gentle.

“You still have time, there’s no rush. Think about this, and maybe try to find out if she thinks the same-”

“Oh, she does,” Francis cut in, his tone once again playful. “I’ve been waiting so long for this moment…”

Alfred felt himself grow even hotter.

“Cut it off, frog! He didn’t even say her name!”

Francis shot Arthur an incredulous glare that Alfred couldn’t blame. Both Arthur and Francis had seen him interact with Maggie, and if Feliks had noticed that he liked her… He was still grateful for the privacy his father offered him.

Another sudden thought sparked in his mind, sobering him up.

“And how do I know,” he asked as he straightened up, trying to convey the importance of his question through a firm voice. “That she truly likes me and isn’t saying that only to make me happy?”

Francis and Arthur focused back on him, their expressions turning more serious.

“Well,” Arthur answered in the end, looking at Alfred straight in the eyes. “The fact alone that you show this concern is quite a proof of maturity. And…”

“I’m sure that Marguerite likes you back,” Francis intervened. Alfred blushed at the mention of Maggie’s name, but at that point, he wasn’t fooling anybody. “I cannot tell whether she is ready for a relationship or not, but if you can convince her that you genuinely like her, she probably is. And if you two like each other, what’s the point in waiting?”

Alfred shifted on the armchair, taken aback. Francis definitely had a point, yet…

“Man, this is gonna be hard,” he muttered.

“Alfred, it’s okay if you don’t feel ready,” his father said tentatively, bending towards him. “You’re still very young, and this is something important.”

“But, if you decide for going on with this, take it seriously.”

Alfred and Artur turned towards Francis, who was sporting an unusually stern expression.

“Of course I will!” Alfred sputtered, frowning. He folded his arms across his chest and straightened his back for a further impression of confidence.

“And what are you trying to accuse him of, you-”

“I’m not accusing anybody of anything.” The lines on Francis’s face softened as he talked. “I know that you’re a good kid, Alfred. But, somebody has to step up and be the father figure for Marguerite, don’t you think?” A smile tugged at the man’s lips. “What I’m saying is just… don’t blow this up, Alfred. You two are just kids, but take it as seriously as you can. This could turn into something beautiful, if you both do, or it could end up hurting somebody if you’re careless.”

“I wouldn’t be careless,” Alfred promised, looking straight at Francis. “I’m just… trying to understand what to do.”

“Take all the time you need to decide,” his father urged again before taking a sip from his tea.

Deep inside, Alfred knew that he actually already had. No matter what everybody kept telling him, there wasn’t so much time. Probably, Arthur and Francis knew as well.

“So, Dad,” he said after a moment of silence, “How did you ask Mom on your first date? You never told me… and what did you do?”

The question should _not_ have sent Arthur bent in half in a coughing fit as he choked on his tea, or Francis howling with laughter.

“Come on, guys…” Alfred groaned.

Francis was the first to recover, wiping the tears from his face as he stood up to go and pat Arthur’s back.

“Oh, _mon chou_ … I know that you’re asking your father because he’s married, but he’s the last person you should ask advice to, believe me. Dating is not really his strength.”

Arthur tried to protest, but he was still coughing too hard, his face scarlet.

“Besides,” Francis went on, “This is a different situation. The best dates are personal, and what was right for your parents wouldn’t be the best for you and Marguerite. This is something _you_ should figure out.”

Alfred should have already known that Francis was right. He didn’t know what had possessed him to ask his father, it had probably been his mother asking him on a date... Alfred relaxed in his armchair as he watched Arthur trying to regain control of himself, a smile finally tugging at his lips.

_I’m going to figure this out._

The thought scared him a little, but Alfred knew that the result would be worth it.

“Now I want to know what happened with you and Mom, though!”

And the dirty glare his father sent him as he tried to regain his breath couldn’t make Alfred forget how much he had helped him, even at the loss of his own pride.

_Everything is going to be all right._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Iryna is Ukraine  
> Erika is Liechtenstein  
> Amelia is Nyo!America (Alfred’s mother)  
> Laura is Belgium
> 
> I’m not a native English speaker, so, if you have noticed any mistake, pointing it out would be really useful!
> 
> It will probably be a bit before next chapter, too. I anticipate that it will be quite hard to write. If you want some updates, I’d invite you to check [my tumblr](https://feyna-v.tumblr.com) under the tag '[about feyna’s writing](https://feyna-v.tumblr.com/tagged/about-feyna%27s-writing)'. If the chapter is taking more than a month, I’ll say something there.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I had anticipated, this chapter was incredibly hard to write – and once again, I am immensely grateful to you guys for the support you’re giving me. You’re wonderful <3 and there’s no reason to worry about spelling mistakes or not exactly perfect English in reviews, I really don’t mind, the mere fact that you decided to reach out to me really means a lot, I couldn’t ask for anything more!
> 
>  **Warnings :** Usual (for this fic, I mean) depictions of child neglect and emotional abuse.  
> Dialogues in italic between Francis and Maggie mean they’re speaking French.
> 
> I really hope you’ll enjoy the chapter. And please review :)

The last day of school before the Christmas break, Maggie woke up to an unexpected thin layer of white covering every surface. The girl had to apply a conscious effort to tear her eyes away from the window, and the smile kept lingering on her lips as she prepared herself for the morning. The presence of the snow made everything calmer, almost magical. Even Steve’s unfriendly squint at Maggie’s passage caused barely more than a dent to the girl’s confidence, and everything was forgotten the moment her feet sank into the freshly fallen snow. It was hardly more than an inch, but Maggie’s heart fluttered with giddiness. She hadn’t truly expected to see snow that year, and only when a weight she hadn’t even been conscious of was lifted from her chest, she realized how much she hadn’t allowed herself to grieve it.

Maggie’s good mood only improved when Arthur’s car stopped in front of the fence just as the girl reached it. Alfred’s face welcomed her from the front seat, his nose and cheeks flushed from the cold. He did nothing but complain the entire way to the school, but at that point, Maggie knew him well enough to realize that his discomfort wasn’t as acute as the boy seemed to imply – nothing more than annoyance for the fact that the snow hadn’t been enough to close the school. The way he smiled at Maggie was much more genuine.

From his words and Arthur’s following remarks, however, the girl understood that snow before Christmas wasn’t a common occurrence, that winter was being unusually rigid. It felt silly, but Maggie couldn’t shake off the impression that it was a gift tailored to her.

But in truth, the unexpected snow was only the icing of the cake. Maggie had so many things to feel grateful for that she couldn’t even begin to list them. There was the gentle smile Arthur addressed her before driving away, Tolys’s warm one as she and Alfred walked into the class… Sometimes, Maggie felt like she was living in a dream she would wake up from at any given moment.

Alfred’s fingers gently running through her hair as he braided it, however, were solid and real – and much gentler than they had been in the beginning, too. Since Maggie had broken her arm, she had found herself facing the dilemma of how to tie up her hair. Leaving it loose had turned out to be a hassle the girl had completely forgotten about, it kept getting trapped under her elbow when she was writing and getting in the way of anything she tried to do. Fortunately, many people around Maggie knew how to deal with long hair. The girl had been placing her hopes in Feliks, but another unexpected aid had come from Alfred, who had turn out to be eager to help and a quick learner.

The memory of the shame that had invaded Maggie’s chest the first time her eyes had landed on the boy still made her skin crawl with uneasiness. She could perfectly recall that mixture of longing and anxiety that had accompanied their first interactions, the joy curbed by the awareness that they weren’t going to last. Even after more than two months, any time Alfred’s hands touched her hair caused a flutter to Maggie’s heart and the heat to rise to her cheeks. The girl refused to analyse the meaning of those impressions, but she couldn’t deny that they weren’t completely negative. Not even in her wildest dreams she would have dared to imagine how soothing and familiar Alfred’s touch would become to be.

Even the approaching tick of heels against the ceramic tiles that anticipated Alyssa walking into the classroom didn’t cause more than a twinge of uneasiness in Maggie. It wasn’t because Alyssa had gotten more civil. At that moment, like any other time Maggie wasn’t alone, Alyssa pretended the other girl didn’t exist, but Maggie couldn’t help but notice the tightening of her jaw when she walked by, as if Alyssa was barely restraining herself from spewing all she thought about Maggie – more importantly, about Alfred being so intimate with her. She had certainly done it on other occasions, when Maggie had been alone. Maggie hadn’t believed that the vulgarity in the notes could increase, but Alyssa had found a way to do so. Just like she had found a way to laugh obnoxiously at any remark coming out of Maggie’s mouth, or trip her in the corridors.

Oddly, Maggie wasn’t feeling more intimidated – if anything, Alyssa had started grating on her nerves. Maggie could stand mockeries and giggles, but having to find excuses after excuses to explain why her sweater was wet or her hand scraped after a fall was quite tiring. To make matters worse, there was no point in Alyssa’s actions, all they could accomplish was angering Alfred if he were to find out. Everything about her looked like a childish game, Maggie couldn’t believe she had ever let herself be upset by such a spoiled brat.

 _‘You shouldn’t call her like that, it’s probably not even her fault – just the way she was brought up, most likely,’_ a stern voice reprimanded Maggie in her head, making the girl stiffen and bite down on her lower lip.

Her action drew Alfred’s attention, who raised his head from the braid he had just finished tying around the bun at the nape of Maggie’s neck.

“What… oh!” The boy’s eyes darkened when they followed the trajectory of Maggie’s ones and landed on Alyssa’s back. “She’s not bothering you, is she? I told her…”

Maggie shook her head, forcing her eyebrows to raise in fake confusion and smothering at the same time the pang of curiosity Alfred’s words had stirred. _(Told her what, exactly? And why and when did it even happen?)_

“Who?” she asked, then widened her eyes as if the realization had just dawned on her. “Ah, Alyssa! Oh, I wasn’t looking at her, I was just… lost in my thoughts. And no, of course she’s not. I don’t think she really likes me, but… it’s not like she ever said anything in that regard…”

“Yeah, I don’t think she likes you much.” Alfred’s admission was uncharacteristically soft. “But don’t take it personally, she’s just… sorry for the word, but she’s just a bitch. Spoiled rotten. And so are her friends. Believe me, you’re not losing anything by not having them as friends. But, if she ever bothers you, tell me. I’ll… I’ll do something about this.”

If Alfred thought he could somehow change Alyssa’s mindset without creating a huge scandal, he clearly had no idea of how things worked between girls. It was one more reason he needed to be kept unaware of what was going on, Maggie thought with a lurch of her stomach.

“Thank you. But there’s no need, really. She just… mostly pretend I don’t exist, and that’s fine with me.”

Alfred harrumphed, but at Maggie’s smile, his own features softened. That quelled down her concerns as well. No matter what Alyssa did or had done in the past, it would never be more important than Alfred’s smile.

Alyssa faded even more from Maggie’s mind as Mrs Sheonang strode into the class.

“Jones, this is a Maths class, not a hairdresser’s salon,” she reprimanded as she walked past the trio.

“Sorry,” Alfred was quick to answer, scooting his chair back to its place, but his tone wasn’t nearly as apologetic as it should have been.

Maggie fought the urge to lower her eyes to the desk and looked at straight at Mrs Sheonang, her stomach coiled with uneasiness.

“No, it’s _my_ fault, I’m…”

Mrs Sheonang interrupted her with a small shake of her head.

“Nice updo, though. Nice work, Jones,” she whispered, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

Without another mention to the issue, the woman laid her briefcase on her desk and started taking attendance.

Maggie’s stupor was broken only when Alfred nudged her with his elbow.

“See? It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize for everything, nobody thought this was disrespectful, the lesson hadn’t even started yet. Just take it easy.”

Once again, Alfred was right. Maggie should really add it to the list of her blessings: since she had come back to school with her left arm in a cast and visible bruises on her face, each teacher had been unbelievably kind to her. They had made sure that Maggie had somebody (usually, Alfred) carrying her books and excused her from the tests for another week to follow. Nobody had ever been so attentive, not even when Maggie had sported worse injuries. That was yet another reason the girl couldn’t let her anything tamper her good mood – she had too many things she should be thankful for, she couldn’t ask for anything else.

Even if it was the last day of school before the Christmas break. Maggie’s chest clenched at the thought. As she had learned over the last few days, nobody would be in town for the holidays. Francis had left two days earlier to spend Christmas with his mother in Paris, looking regretfully sombre as he had given Maggie the news. He had even offered to bring the girl with him, but they both knew that Steve was never going to agree to that. In spite of the cold cordiality he reserved to Francis, the way his features hardened any time they had to interact screamed all the disgust he was failing to hide.

Tolys and Feliks were going to visit the rest of their families in Lithuania and Poland; Mikkel, Lukas and Emil were going back to their parents and Tiina and Berwald would go with them along with their children, Michelle had already had her last final and left the previous week. Ludwig, Feliciano, Lovino and Erika were all going skiing in the Alps and they were bringing Kiku with them since Yao hadn’t managed to get out of work for the holidays. Even Natalya, Ivan and Iryna were going back to Russia.

Natalya had answered to Maggie’s badly-hidden surprise at the news with a shrug of her head.

“Our father is an asshole, but Moscow is still the place we grew up in. It’s gorgeous, and we also have good memories there. No amount of bad things will erase that, that’s why we like going back. It’s still home. Besides, our grandfather is still there as well. He’s a kind man, and he misses us, even if he helped Irunya take us away. I’m looking forward to seeing him.”

Natalya’s features had been hard as she uttered those words, her grey eyes colder than ice, they had frozen Maggie’s chest and constricted her lungs. They had left many questions whirling in her head, along with an odd note of sorrow. Maggie could see how much Natalya had suffered, but she had no words to comfort her. Natalya clearly didn’t want them, she was strong. Maggie still regretted having let her awkwardness tie her tongue, but Natalya had already left after a hurried goodbye.

Alfred was going to leave as well, invited to Australia by Arthur’s cousin, son of an uncle who had been exiled by the Kirkland family years before Arthur and because of the shared history, had taken a shine to him. Alfred had seemed enthusiastic about it, but that afternoon, in front of Maggie’s house, his expression was oddly sombre.

“I kind of wish we weren’t going, this year,” he admitted, shaking his head.

“You were looking forward to it,” Maggie reminded him, her stomach twisting with uneasiness. “You told me that you couldn’t wait to see your second cousins. And you always talk about how much fun you have with them… it shouldn’t be any different. You’ll have a great time. And it’s also warmer than here, you should be happy about it, aren’t you?”

Maggie didn’t even dare to imagine an Australian summer, she felt too hot at the mere thought, but Alfred’s lips finally curled into a small grin at her comment.

“Yep! That’s true! It’s just…” the boy’s eyes roamed behind Maggie to stop on the dark windows of her house. Nobody was home. Alfred’s expression darkened. “I really don’t want to leave you here alone, you know? Christmas time should be spent with people. With family.”

“It won’t be a problem, really. It won’t be so bad, it’s not even two weeks.”

Two weeks without seeing Alfred and anybody else would be odd, after how much Maggie had grown accustomed to their presence. They were probably going to be worse than the loneliness Maggie had experienced before, now that she knew how something different tasted like. At the same time, Alfred’s genuine participation tugged at the girl’s heartstrings, warming her up from the inside. She had something to look forward to, and that made everything more bearable.

“And you and your Dad should be with family, too,” she added gently, anticipating Alfred’s protest.

The boy’s features softened again, growing pensive.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Mocking his family with Uncle Bruce will do Dad some good. And it has been a while since I’ve seen Kyle, Zach and Wendy, anyway. Seeing them again will be cool! And we can still talk, anyway. We’ll skype a bit, okay? You can even meet my cousins, they’ll like you!”

Maggie certainly wasn’t looking forward to a skype call with some strangers, but the notion seemed to bring Alfred back to his good mood, and that was what truly counted. Seeing him skipping away happily after hugging Maggie goodbye, his lips curled into a smile and his eyes sparkling, flooded the girl with optimism as well.

Her house looked cold and empty as she stepped inside, the lack of Christmas decoration seemed a testament to Maggie’s empty life – but they were lying. Those two weeks were going to be empty. After that… after that, everything would be bright again. Even if Maggie didn’t deserve it. She had been given a wonderful gift, and giving it away would be ungrateful.

The girl’s resolution to face everything with a smile was tested as early as the same evening, when Steve’s loud steps thundered at the doorway and the door was slammed closed with a thud that echoed all over the house, making Maggie jump out of her skin. Her pulse was racing as she hurried downstairs to heat up the dinner, her throat was nearly closed off.

_‘What now?’_

The string of swears that anticipated Steve walking into the kitchen only strengthened Maggie’s impression that the man had had an awful day. His hair was in disarray, the eyes that landed on Maggie bloodshot and dark with anger. The girl’s stomach twisted, her chest was so tight that she could barely breathe. She deposited the stew on the table with shaky hands kept her eyes fixed on it, trying to brace herself for the hit.

But Steve simply flopped down on the chair and huffed as the wood creaked under his weight.

“What are you doing still around? I’ll have to see your ugly face enough for the next few weeks, give me a bit of space, for fuck’s sake!”

Maggie’s ears registered the sound, but her brain needed a few more moments to grasp its meaning. The moment it did, the girl dashed out of the kitchen with a gasp, unwilling to test her luck. She headed straight to the bathroom and vomited into the toilet before sliding down next to it, her entire body shaking.

_‘He didn’t hit me.’_

After years of living with Steve, the girl was attuned to his mood and knew what to expect only from the heaviness of his steps and the quality of his swearing. Over the last few weeks, however, everything had changed. No matter how mad he might have been, Steve hadn’t hit Maggie once, in spite of his heavy insults.

_He couldn’t._

Any single additional bruise on Maggie’s body would land him in troubles, if it was still visible at her following check-up. Maggie should have been used to it, but for some reason, her instinct refused to grow accustomed to what the rational part of her brain was aware of. Maggie also knew that she should feel guilty for how she was depriving Steve the opportunity to lash out his righteous (if at times exaggerated) punishment, but all she could feel was a mind-numbing relief.

_Count your blessings._

Those wonderful people around her had given much more than Maggie could have ever imagined, much more than she deserved, surely – but at that point, all she could feel was gratitude.

A gratitude that seeped into the following days, mostly during the skype calls with Alfred. For Maggie, they usually happened late in the evening, she had to whisper not to be heard by Steve and her pulse was constantly racing at the thought of being discovered – but, with Alfred’s face on the other side of the camera, it was almost thrilling.

The boy had needed only a couple of days to take a healthy tan, the sunny beaches of Australia seemed his natural setting. He was enthusiastic when he told Maggie about his day, his eyes shining as he gestured animatedly. He was almost mesmerizing to look at.

The fourth day, the camera opened on a view that made Maggie’s heart skip a beat. Alfred was in front of her, but next to him, there were two other boys Maggie had only ever seen in photo. One looked about as tall and athletic as Alfred, even the enthusiastic expression giving light to his tanned features was similar. His brown hair was messily swept back, still a bit damp. The second boy had a more unobtrusive presence, he was almost hiding himself in a corner of a screen and was half a step behind Alfred. His smile was gentler, too, and the curly light brown hair framing his head looked more in order compared to the other boy. Both had lime green eyes and a pair of massive, fuzzy eyebrows that marked them as belonging to the Kirkland family.

_Alfred’s cousins._

A weight sank in Maggie’s stomach. She wasn’t ready to talk to some strangers, not without being told first… but Alfred was smiling widely, the excitement evident in the sparkle of his eyes.

“Hey! These are Kyle and Zach!” He pointed first at the tanned boy, then at the curly-haired one. “And this is Maggie, guys! Say hi!”

_I cannot ruin Alfred’s fun._

Maggie bit down the impulse to end the connection and pretend there were problems with her wi-fi. Instead, she mustered her most welcoming smile for the boys in front of her.

Fortunately, Kyle turned out to be as talkative and hyper as Alfred. He hardly shut down for a moment, telling Maggie about how he had just gotten his instructor licence and was teaching the basics of swimming to pre-schoolers before marvelling at the snow (that he had apparently only seen once in his life, but he had been so young that it was nothing more than a fuzzy memory) when he noticed the landscape behind Maggie’s shoulders, out of the window. Between Kyle and Alfred, Maggie hardly had to talk at all. Zach imitated her, just intervening from time to time in a quiet voice to remind his older brother that other people deserved their turn to talk as well. When Zach and Kyle were eventually called out of the room by a feminine voice, leaving Alfred alone, Maggie was completely relaxed. The enthusiasm was contagious, she almost felt like surrounded by a warm family herself.

“Sorry for not telling you earlier, you know, Kyle was just bugging me that he wanted to meet you and we were all here… I hope you didn’t mind too much,” Alfred said as soon as the door closed. _He_ clearly didn’t regret it, while he ran a hand through his hair as if to curb the awkwardness, the smile had never slipped from his lips. “And I just… wanted to let you meet my family. There are nice people too, not everybody’s an asshole.”

A fuzzy feeling blossomed inside Maggie’s chest at the warmth in Alfred’s voice.

“Yes, they’re nice. Thank you. And it sounds like you’re having fun, aren’t you?”

Maggie was already quite sure of the answer, but having it confirmed by the way Alfred’s smile widened was even better.

“You bet! It’s amazing here, there’s not a moment of boredom. Kyle’s super cool, but the others are nice as well. Everybody’s so lively that even Dad is relaxing. I mean, he complains all the time about the noise and people not being dignified and all that stuff, but he’s smiling a bit more than usual. Even if he already got sunburnt. And he seems to be having a great fun insulting the rest of the Kirklands with Uncle Bruce and Grandma Sam – the one who was married to Dad’s uncle, you know. He passed away a couple of years ago, but she’s still alive and kicking and boy! You should hear what she has to say…”

The call ended not long later when Alfred was called to prepare the barbeque, but it left a smile on Maggie’s lips. Her own room was cold and bare and the only sign of a family the formal papers designing Steve as her guardian, but seeing Alfred so happy and relaxed brought joy to Maggie as well. The thought of seeing again his lively eyes helped her stay strong for the rest of the days, even when Steve glowered and yelled at her.

Maggie should have expected that scenario to become more frequent, with both she and Steve always home for the holidays, but she had miscalculated the entity. Claudia wasn’t as present as Maggie would have expected, she seemed to have a shorter break than Steve and was quite busy on the other days, as well. Unfortunately, that meant that Steve’s attention was mostly fixed on Maggie. The man kept looking at her askance and insulting her, many times the muscles of his arms flexed and fists tightened as if he were about to hit Maggie.

Maggie could stand that. She had always had, and, in spite of the many scares, Steve wasn’t even hurting her, which was a huge improvement. What she couldn’t live with, however, was the other part of Steve’s abuse.

The man didn’t take long to realize that Maggie was alone, and he kept taunting her about it. Him saying that her friends were going to forget her, once they came back from their holidays, was completely justified, as Maggie herself would have thought the same. Steve knew her for what she was, after all, not for the mask she put on in front of her friends, so he knew better than anybody else why she was unworthy of them. Steve’s insults didn’t stop there, however.

The first time the man started taunting her ‘boyfriend’, asking if he had wanted to _‘cop a feel or tear off her clothes, yet’_ , Maggie’s blood ran cold. She clenched her fists until they hurt and kept her head down, using all her willpower not to be rude, but such gratuitous insults directed towards Alfred made fury mount in her chest.

 _‘Steve doesn’t know. He had a harsh childhood, he lived among bad people. Always jumping to the worst conclusion is only a natural result of that,’_ she kept telling herself like a mantra, trying to repress the small voice in her head that pointed out how Steve should have known Alfred was a good person, by then, since nothing had ever happened.

The worst, however, came when Steve started talking about Francis.

“That man had everybody fooled. I thought it was a faggot, so I let you hang around him. Instead, look at the clever bastard… using that cover to lure young girls around him. I saw him, you know? He was checking you out all the time, when you weren’t looking. Oh, I know that he never did anything, but don’t be fooled. Maybe he’s a coward and he’s just waiting for a better opportunity. Or maybe, he didn’t see anything worthy of his attention and just keeps you around to look trustworthy and lure other young girls. Damned if I knew. I would say it’s that – don’t let a bit of attention get to your head. I’ve seen plenty of girls in my life, and you’ve got nothing to brag about, believe me ­– but I’m not a pervert, I don’t know how their mind works.”

Maggie’s heart stopped for a moment. She sank her teeth into her lower lips until she tasted blood, biting back the words surging from her chest. _Francis_ certainly wasn’t the one being a creep and checking her out. Even worse, Steve _knew_ that. He had seen the way Francis had taken care of Maggie, he had even _let_ him.

_‘Why? Why is he saying that?’_

Maggie tried to think back to her old mantra, but there was no justification this time. Knowing only little about him, Steve might think badly about Alfred ( _not_ Maggie’s boyfriend, for how much he insisted) but he knew that Francis wasn’t going to hurt her. He _had_ to.

“He’s not like that,” she tried to protest, somehow keeping her voice even.

Steve’s answer was a cruel laughter. He wasn’t going to listen to her. Maggie knew that she had no right to demand to be taken into consideration – she certainly had never given Steve a reason to trust her words – but fury clawed at her stomach at the realization, making her feel sick.

To avoid further confrontations, Maggie took to spending a lot of time outside. The town was quaint and dull compared to Canada – Maggie would have rather seen woods instead of flat streets and boring rows of small houses – but at least, it was still snowing. Everybody around Maggie complained about it, but she didn’t mind. Under that soothing white blanket, everything was ethereal, with the soft edge of the dream. Maggie let herself drift away in the soft snow and cold wind. She spent all the moments she wasn’t reading walking aimlessly around the city, unnoticed as a ghost.

Sometimes, a nauseatingly sweet voice in a corner of her mind whispered that nothing was real. Just a dream Maggie was going to wake up from any moment.

But it wasn’t.

The daily chats with Alfred called Maggie back to reality, and the Whatsapp group hummed with activity, with people posting pictures of winter sports, Christmas decorations and anecdotes of their days. Each buzz of her phone prevented Maggie from straying away too far, making her notice the passing of the time and counting the days that separated her from the end of the break.

For New Year’s Eve, while everybody was celebrating, Maggie was accompanied by a sullen Steve and a more friendly Joshua to take off her cast. Dr Wang’s eyes were hard as he inspected the two men, making Maggie’s stomach coil in fear, but his hands around her arm where gentle. In the end, nothing was said, but Dr Wang’s hard stare undeniably spelled out his judgement. That surely had to anger Steve, Maggie couldn’t ignore his set jaw and gritted teeth. Fortunately, the man was dragged away by Joshua because he would spend a four-days holiday in the cabin of a colleague of theirs. When the door closed behind his shoulders, the ice encasing Maggie’s chest melted, letting her able to breathe again. She was surely going to face Steve’s fury the exact moment he came back, but for the time being, she had been spared. She was going to enjoy the last few days of calm at the best of her abilities.

On the second-last day of the break, Francis came back from Paris. Maggie was out of her house and walking to his door before she could even realize what she was doing, the ill feeling that she was taking too many liberties and being a nuisance dwindling to almost nothing at the mere sight of Francis’s welcoming face.

The man greeted her at the doorway with a gasp, his brow knitting in concern.

_“Marguerite, have you been eating? You’ve lost weight, you look so thin…”_

With a pang of surprise, Maggie realized that Francis’s worries weren’t unfounded: she hadn’t even thought about it, but looking back, she had been eating alarmingly little, without being prompted by having to do it in front of other people. She wasn’t even sure that she had managed to get a full meal every day.

_No wonder everything felt so hazy and distant…_

The girl almost wanted to hit herself for that embarrassing lack of foresight, instead, she let Francis lead her to the living room with a gentle hand on her back. Before she could even blink, the girl found herself sitting on the sofa, with a tray of pastries and a steaming cup of tea in front of her. Francis enquired first about Maggie’s arm and the last check-up, only after that, he started recounting his time in Paris, his features softening with longing.

Maggie basked in the cozy atmosphere and Francis’s melodious voice, almost hypnotized in the sudden wave of pleasant tiredness that followed her relaxation as she smoothly slipped back in that routine. The phone suddenly vibrating in the bag against her leg startled her, making the girl straighten up with a small gasp.

Francis immediately stopped talking, his lips curling into a smile as he realized what had happened.

_“You should answer the phone… I’ll go make something else to drink. I think you could use some hot chocolate.”_

Francis was out of the room before Maggie could apologize or protest that ignoring him to stay at the phone would be rude. Shaking her head, the girl bent down to retrieve the phone and immediately looked at the screen, that signalled two unread messages from Alfred.

A smile curled her lips as she hurriedly unlocked the phone.

**<** _Finally back!  
_ **<** _We just had to wait a bit at the airport because Dad couldn’t find his suitcase, but we’re home now.  
_ **<** _Flight was fine!  
_ **<** _They had some cool movies  
_ **<** _Dad’s complaining that the seats weren’t comfy and he’s all cranky  
_ **<** _But it’s just bc he’s too sunburnt lol  
_ **<** _He’s like hot pink  
_ **<** _I tried to take a picture but he was going to kill me, so you’ll have to do without that_

Maggie’s lips curled into a smile as she kept reading. Not only she was glad to hear Alfred was safely back and the fact he had immediately messaged her was flattering – the vitality seeping from his words was contagious, spreading happiness inside Maggie as well.

**<** _Where r u at now?_

Maggie noticed the last message just as Francis walked back into the room with two mugs of hot chocolate in his hands.

 _“Alfred?”_ he asked with a knowing smile.

Maggie nodded as the typed her answer.

 _“He said they just came back,”_ she explained, then took the mug Francis was handing out to her.

She frowned suspiciously at the generous serving of whipped cream on top of it. Under Francis’s urging, she had already had three pastries…

_“Are you trying to fatten me up?”_

The moment the words seeped out of her lips, Maggie blushed and clenched her fists, wishing she could take them back, but Francis’s snort indicated that he hadn’t taken offence.

 _“Did you just compare me to a grandmother?”_ he asked, mirth dancing in his eyes. He soon sobered up, however. _“Not fattening you up, ma chérie. Never that. But you’re a growing girl and you need to eat to be healthy! And also to indulge in sweets sometimes. They might not be healthy for your body, but eating something that tastes good is good for your mental health.”_

Francis’s tone had gotten almost chiding at the end, undoubtedly alluding to Maggie’s weight loss, but his eyes were still soft. He wasn’t scolding Maggie, he just cared.

_Not like a grandmother. Like a father._

Maggie hid her smile behind a spoonful of whipped cream. Francis taking care of her made him happy by appealing to his nurtuting nature, and in turn, she was happy as well. Steve didn’t approve. But Steve was wrong about many things, Maggie was starting to realize, and Francis certainly was one of them.

Trying to distract herself from that dangerous train of thoughts, Maggie looked away from Francis. Her eyes fell on the intermittent light of her phone that signalled other unread messages. The girl left her mug on the table and picked up the phone, hoping that something else would claim her focus.

 ** _<_** _Oh, cool._  
**<** I wanted to see you but I’m kinda beat tbh.  
**<** Since you are at Francis’s we can meet up tomorrow!  
**<** I was thinking something  
**<** With the cold, I know that they basically used some streets around the park as an ice rink.  
**<** We could go there!  
**<** Just the two of us  
**<** Are u up for it?

Maggie’s cheeks flushed a deep red. Her eyes were transfixed on the on phone, on the second-last message. Only Francis’s voice tore her away from her stupor.

_“Oh? Did Alfred say something that embarrassed you, ma chérie?”_

Maggie felt the scorching heat in her cheeks increase when she noticed Francis’s smirk.

 _“N-no,”_ she stammered, nervously tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. _“He didn’t do anything, I’m just… overthinking something he wrote.”_

Francis’s raised brow was an invitation to keep talking. Maggie swallowed and straightened up, willing her hands to stop trembling.

_“He asked me out for tomorrow. And… it was the just the wording, I know it’s not what he meant, but… it almost sounded like he wanted to ask me on a date.”_

Alfred had never specified that there wouldn’t be anybody else, before. He had never needed to, it was almost implied – usually, he told Maggie when there would be somebody else as well, not the contrary. That line seemed to speak about something more intimate that made Maggie’s heart beat faster.

_“I know it’s not like that. It would never be. But it just took me out of surprise and I…”_

_“Would it bother you, if it were a romantic date?”_

Maggie froze at Francis’s question, her eyes widening. The man offered her an encouraging smile before taking another sip of hot chocolate. Maggie couldn’t talk.

_A date with Alfred?_

Her stomach coiled at the thought. Maggie had never imagined something like that – she had never _dared_ to, yet…

 _“N-no, not really,”_ she admitted weakly, clasping her hands in her lap.

 _How_ could she mind? Alfred was perfect. He wasn’t the only person Maggie had grown fond of, but nobody else made her feel so free and understood. The connection she had with Alfred was something unique. And yet…

_“But… Francis, that’s not what Alfred meant. I mean, he would never date somebody like me.”_

Francis looked at her in the eyes.

_“And why would you think that? What if he does?”_

The man’s voice was still playfully light, but his eyes looked serious, almost solemn.

Maggie took a deep breath, trying to brace herself.

_‘Because I’m not worthy of Alfred. He’s… not perfect, nobody’s perfect, but he’s an exceedingly good person. He always has good intentions, he works hard to meet his goals, he stops to help people, doesn’t let himself be dragged down by anything. And then, there’s me. I lie and lie and lie and ruin everything I touch.’_

But the last thought wasn’t completely true, Maggie realized with a sudden lurch of her stomach. She hadn’t ruined Alfred. Alfred even claimed that her actions had helped him. But then…

The girl gave a sudden shake of her head to chase away the outrageous thought.

 _“I’m not the right person for Alfred,”_ she said, doing her best to hide the trembling in her voice or how much the admission felt like being kicked in the chest. _“He’s… lively, and headstrong, and many things I’m not. I would just keep him back, and that’s not fair.”_

Francis took a deep breath, his features tightening in visible sadness.

 _“Oh, Marguerite…”_ His voice was heavy, but laced with so much tenderness that the girl almost wanted to cry. _“This isn’t how a relationship works. It’s something mutual. You cannot decide for Alfred. I could write an entire essay on how skewed your perception of yourself is, but this isn’t the point. The point here is that if Alfred wants to date you, it’s his choice. Of course you shouldn’t date him if you don’t want to, but you’re just belittling him by not letting him make his own choices. If he sees something worth dating in you, that’s how he truly feels. He’s the only one who gets to decide who is ‘worthy’ of dating him, not you.”_

_“Oh…”_

Maggie’s head was spinning, she had to brace herself against the couch.

_‘How can I have been so selfish?’_

Before Francis’s words, she had never realized it, but she was doing exactly what the man reprimanded her for: she had babied Alfred, imposed her choices on him.

Francis, however, hadn’t meant it as an accusation. His eyes were still soft, the ghost of a smile curling his lips welcoming.

Could it mean… could it mean that Maggie could _truly_ date Alfred?

Maggie had never thought about herself dating. She was used to seeing her mother jump from boyfriend to boyfriend, have a brief intercourse of connection and fun that only left her emptier and sadder afterwards. Maggie had never wanted something like that. But when Steve had walked into the picture, the concept had changed. Dating wasn’t simply having fun, but connecting. Sharing small glances that spoke about an entire hidden world between two people. Even more than with Steve and Chloé, Maggie had seen it in Carlos’s parents. A tiny woman and a huge man who went from bickering to laughing in the span of two minutes. Who looked at each other as if the other person was the most beautiful wonder in the entire world. Maggie had recognized the same gaze in the one Arthur casted Amelia from Alfred’s pictures, too. Having something like that was Maggie’s deepest wish.

But surely, she didn’t deserve it.

 _“But Alfred doesn’t know everything about me,”_ she admitted in a whisper, hunching her shoulders.

Francis’s expression didn’t change.

_“He doesn’t have to. Being in a relationship doesn’t mean not having boundaries. It means growing up together, and discovering part of the other along the way. But you still have the right to be your own person, and he his own. You’ll never completely share everything.”_

Maggie was at loss of words. Hope soared in her chest, it almost threatened to burst, but the fear locked it into a net.

 _“It doesn’t have to be a date, if you don’t want it to,”_ Francis stressed again, _“But if you do think it could be a date… I think it could. Just tell me, and I’ll help you prepare for one.”_

Francis’s tone was once again more playful, his grin wider as he relaxed against the armchair.

 _“Do you know something I don’t?”_ Maggie asked then, hit by a sudden thought.

Francis’s smile only widened, a glint of amusement went through his eyes. It was short-lived, however, by the time Francis spoke again, his eyes were glazed by an odd longing.

_“Do you know what my biggest regret is, Marguerite? It’s a missed opportunity. Right after high school, I met a girl unlike any other girl I had dated before – and I would date afterwards, even if I didn’t know it. We spent a wonderful year together. For the first time, I truly experienced what being in love meant. But then, I had to move away to study. I was a foolish young man, scared by something so big, and I told myself I wasn’t ready for a long-distance relationship and would just ruin everything. I broke up with her, and I lost the biggest opportunity I had ever had.”_

Maggie wanted to say something, but any word felt insignificant in front of the intensity of Francis’s stare.

_“I’m not trying to decide what you should do, of course. What I’m trying to say is that great opportunities always scare us. It’s normal and human. However, we cannot let this fear paralyze us. By doing so, the losses will be always heavier than the potential risks, believe me.”_

Maggie’s brain seemed frozen, her mouth unable to articulate any word. She knew what she wanted, there was no fooling herself. Could she truly deserve it?

 _“Think about this,”_ Francis said with a gentle smile.

* * *

 

On Sunday afternoon, Alfred had many problems. Part of them was him snapping at his father after the gloomy attitude had lasted since they had landed and only worsened after a phone call with Alistair. Alfred had resisted a grand total of thirty minutes before trying to bug his father for an account of what had happened, which had only worsened Arthur’s mood. Alfred had to do better.

But at the present moment, he had to focus on the _second_ issue, that was making him more and more jittery with every passing second. At home, he had spent half an hour in front of the mirror, trying and failing to choose some clothes to impress Maggie with before realizing that the girl had never given any indication to care about it, and the heavy coat would cover anything anyway. Alfred had still chosen to wear a pair of brand-new jeans, just in case.

He was now waiting in front of the ice-rink, walking back and forth and jumping at every bus that passed by, hoping to get a glimpse of strawberry-blonde hair.

_Maggie said yes._

It didn’t matter as much as Alfred’s brain was pretending it did, he had chickened out at the last moment and never specified it was a date. He had been almost hoping for the girl to ask something, but she never had – and it wouldn’t have been like Maggie, in any case. For her, it was just an afternoon meeting like many others.

Maggie couldn’t know how long Alfred had been thinking about it, how many plans he had discarded before finding, in an unexpected stroke of luck, the afternoon that looked tailored exactly for Maggie: she liked ice-skating, the decorations added a nice atmosphere and they would have some time to talk. _If_ Alfred managed to do it. The boy took a deep breath and puffed his chest, trying to give himself strength and stop his hands from shaking.

“Hi, Al!”

He jumped at the soft voice and whirled around, barely repressing a squeak of surprise. His eyes widened, the air was suddenly knocked out of his lungs.

Maggie was _stunning._ She was always beautiful, of course, but there was something that made her different. Instead of her usual beige parka, a double-breasted red coat hugged her frame, stopping right before the hem of a dark dress and pair of slim legs covered by nylon stockings. Maggie’s hair wasn’t in twintails, but it danced freely behind her shoulders as she walked, blown by the gentle wind. The locks closer to the front had been braided and pinned back, leaving her face fully visible. But it wasn’t only that – as the girl walked closer, Alfred thought he could detect some hints of make-up. There was a thin black line on her upper eyelids that angled upwards, enhancing the shape of her eyes, and her lips looked shinier.

Alfred was at loss of words. The make-up didn’t change anything in Maggie’s beauty, but the fact that she _had_ put it on… Alfred’s heart started beating faster, the implication filling him with giddiness.

“Hi,” he stuttered lamely, unable to tear his eyes off. “You look good.”

A crimson flush blossomed on Maggie’s cheeks, but she didn’t lower her head.

“T-thanks,” she muttered, twisting her hands in front of her. Her voice was slightly shaking. “Oh, and… you too. You got really tanned, I mean, I…”

Her uneasiness finally made the gear inside Alfred’s brain start moving again. Not wanting to worsen the situation, he forcefully swallowed down the discomfort coiling his stomach and wrapped his arm around the girl’s shoulders.

“Thanks! Australian sun does wonders. But I had actually missed a bit of winter.” Alfred was lying, he loathed winter with every fibre of his being and would have gladly started hibernating at the first hint of cold air – but Maggie seemed to like it, so Alfred had started making peace with winter as well. “We wouldn’t have this if it weren’t winter, would we?”

The boy gestured at the ice covering the road, where children and some other teens were already skating and laughing. They seemed to be having fun. Ice-skating wasn’t the biggest of Alfred’s talents, but he was quite decent at it – and it would probably become one of his favourite activities, if it made Maggie happier.

The mere mention of ice had made the girl relax under his arm, the smile curling her lips was as genuine as the glint in her eyes. Alfred cheered internally. For once, he seemed to have chosen the right activity.

The teens started chatting about more mundane matters as they headed towards the booth were Alfred would rent his skates. By the time the boy had finished tying them, Maggie was already on the ice, a wide smile stretching her lips.

“I didn’t think they would do something like this here, it’s so beautiful!” she sighed, skating in a graceful circle around Alfred.

The boy didn’t think that any landscape could be compared to the way Maggie’s eyes glimmered with joy or to her slight frame that almost seemed to fly as she slid with ease, making ice-skating look even more natural than walking, but he was probably biased.

Alfred himself needed some moments to adjust to the ice, but it wasn’t the first time he skated, and he was soon able to stay at Maggie’s side and chat. He had missed the girl’s questions, her intent listening and her clever observations.

As usual, she wasn’t talking much, but it was also because her holidays had been a lot less exciting than Alfred’s. Alfred would have been almost worried, if not for an odd glint of confidence in the girl’s eyes and posture that told she was fine – better than Alfred would have expected, even. Or maybe it was the ice making her bolder. Alfred liked that hidden side of Maggie, as well. When the girl suddenly left him and staged a jump, his heart leapt inside his chest, but Maggie was back to earth with a graceful spin before Alfred’s brain could even fully registered what had happened.

“I used to do figure skating,” Maggie explained in front of the boy’s petrified expression, “I can still do some tricks and I just… felt like doing one. Sorry.”

But her grin said that she wasn’t, and Alfred didn’t mind, either. Seeing Maggie so happy and carefree, with her cheeks reddened by the cold wind and a smile stretching her lips, made his own heart soar as well.

Alfred was hyperaware of her presence, he felt almost drunk with a mixture of giddiness and anticipation. As they talked, he couldn’t help but admire the way she smiled, how elegant her slim legs looked, sliding on the ice. It was such a mesmerizing sight that Alfred was barely aware of anything else, not even the cold wind slapping his cheeks was an inconvenience.

The boy was suddenly jerked back to reality by an unexpected tug at a skate. He gasped, flailing to regain control. Maggie’s hands closed over his arms, stabilizing him.

“There was a crack in the ice,” she explained, her eyes widened in concern. “You got it with a skate. Are you all right?”

“Sure,” Alfred answered with a grin, trying to hide the way his heart was still hammering in his chest.

The smile Maggie offered him was knowing, but she left the issue alone. They slowed down their pace, skating idly. When Maggie loosened her hold on Alfred’s arm, the boy grasped her fingers. Maggie’s gloved hand stiffened for a single moment before relaxing in Alfred’s one. It fitted perfectly, almost as if it was made to be there.

Alfred’s stomach lurched as the realization that he could wait no more washed over him. He whirled to a stop, taking Maggie’s free hand into his one as well. The girl stiffened, looking up at him with questioning eyes.

Alfred took a deep breath. He forcefully recalled Dad’s and Francis’s words to give himself strength.

_‘There’s no use in waiting. I’ve taken my decision, I’ve got to try, at least.’_

“Maggie, there’s something really important I have to tell you.”

* * *

 

Maggie’s not-date with Alfred had been magical, the most fun the girl had had in a while. The moment she had stepped on the ice, her concerns had melted away, and Alfred’s presence had made everything as perfect as a dream. Anything bad had been hidden away, no more than a dark shadow.

Everything came crashing back with the strength of a wave as soon as Alfred talked, an uncharacteristically grave expression tightening his features. Maggie was suddenly aware of the cold wind seeping under her clothes, of the throbbing exhaustion in her muscles. Of the way her stomach was coiled in a single ball of fear.

 _‘He’s going to say he has had enough of you,’_ a wicked voice whispered into her brain, but Maggie smothered it down. Inviting her out on a date to say that made no sense, no matter how nice Alfred was. All she could do was listen.

Alfred took another deep breath and squared his shoulders. He never broke eye-contact.

“I… I don’t even know where to start, actually. But, the thing is… since I’ve known you, I have started appreciating you more and more. I love spending time together, even simply thinking about that makes me in a better mood. And… you have been able to understand me better than anybody else. I care for all my friends, but with you… there’s something different with you.”

Alfred’s cheeks were heavily flushed at that point, matching the heat Maggie was feeling in her own face. _This is a dream, this is wrong._ She couldn’t believe what Alfred’s was saying, she had almost forgotten to breathe. And the boy kept talking.

“I… like you in a way I’ve never liked anyone before. And… just ignoring this is useless, at this point. I understand if you don’t feel the same way, if you want to forget this entire conversation, but this is something very important for me and I want you to know: I cannot claim anymore that we’re just friends. I’m in love with you, Maggie.”

Alfred was almost panting when he stopped talking, his chest heaving with each breath. His impossibly blue eyes were keeping Maggie’s one tied to him, looking at her with expectation. The girl’s head was spinning, a faint buzzing muffled her hearing.

 “I…” Maggie stammered weakly, “Why me?”

Alfred’s eyes were wide open, his brow almost comically high.

“How could it not be you? You’re… you’re so wonderful. You’re stunning, you’re smart, you’re so sensitive, but you also know how to have fun. I just… feel like we match, somehow. I feel like we could build something together, if we both wanted to.”

Alfred was describing _himself_ , not Maggie. _He_ was the wonderful one, the one who gave light to Maggie’s days in a way that was different from everybody else. Maggie wasn’t worthy of him, but she couldn’t help but think back to Francis’s words. Wasn’t it what she had been hoping for, as well? That was why she had accepted Francis’s help in dressing up. And, in spite of everything, she couldn’t let go of her fear.

“There are… many things that you don’t know about me, Al,” she stated, using all her willpower not to look down.

Alfred shook his head.

“I know. And it’s okay if you don’t feel like telling me something now. You can do when you feel ready for it, I’ll wait. I care for you so much that I honestly don’t mind about it. I just… want you to be happy. And I want to be happy with you. So, I… If you feel like this as well…”

_Will I ever be able to tell Alfred about Steve?_

Not in the near future, that was for sure. But, if Maggie ever found a way to explain everything to Alfred without making him mad… maybe, she would. Once she had become a better person. Maybe, putting herself into something instead of hiding was the right step towards that.

Alfred had made his choice, it was up to Maggie to make hers.

The girl took a deep breath, trying to concentrate over the way her heart was fluttering in her chest.

“Yes. Yes, I do actually feel the same.”

In spite of how jittery she was feeling, Maggie’s voice came out unwavering.

Alfred’s eyes widened, he almost lost his balance as he tilted forward – he would have, if Maggie hadn’t supported him.

“Oh, really?” he blurted out as he clumsily tried to regain his footing. “I mean, of course I was hoping for this, but… I was afraid I would just mess up, you know? I didn’t want to lose your friendship, so… oh, sorry, I’m rambling.”

A nervous giggle seeped through his lips.

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind you rambling. I like how you’re always so spontaneous,” Maggie admitted sheepishly.

Alfred offered her an awkward yet genuine smile.

“So, uh… wait, let me do this properly.” He straightened up to the best of his abilities and cleared his throat. His eyes were shining with confidence behind the glasses. “Maggie, will you be my girlfriend?”

Alfred’s pompousness was almost ridiculous, and, at the same time, it was just like him. Everything about him exuded a familiar earnestness that made Maggie feel as light as a cloud, almost as if she was about to take flight any moment.

She gave Alfred’s hands a gentle squeeze.

“Yes.”

Alfred’s smile was contagious, Maggie reciprocated it almost without realizing it as they slowly spun around. Her racing heart finally slowed down, almost taken by a stupor. Alfred’s eyes had never looked so beautiful, finally, Maggie could let herself admire his light lashes and curve of his lips without feeling guilty about it. Suddenly, they were so close that Maggie could feel Alfred’s hot breath blowing against her lips.

Alfred’s detached his hands from Maggie’s and curled one behind her neck while his free fingers brushed her cheek.

“Can I kiss you?” the boy whispered, his gentle voice barely able to hide a trembling that resonated into Maggie’s bones, making her legs feel weak.

“Yes.”

When Alfred’s slightly peeled lips met Maggie’s ones, the girl’s brain stopped registering anything. All she could focus on was Alfred against her, his lips pressing against hers, his hands curling in her hair. She felt whole.

Alfred tightened his hold on Maggie – and in doing that, he lost his balance. His entire weight was too much for Maggie to support, her skates lost the grip on the ice and she toppled back. Maggie’s back met the ice, knocking the wind out of her lungs, but Alfred’s hands protected her head.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!”

Maggie couldn’t answer. It took her some moments to realize that the laughter she was hearing was coming out of her lips.

“It’s fine. Really, it’s fine!” she hiccupped, trying to regain her breath.

He hands were still around Alfred’s neck, she hadn’t even realized they had ended there. The boy let out a sigh and let his forehead rest against Maggie’s collarbone for a moment.

“I guess I have to work on my technique,” he muttered, but he was soon shaken by laughter as well, and they only increased when a concerned adult none of them knew peeled him off Maggie, his face creased in concern.

“Are you kids all right? That was quite a fall you took…” a second man asked, bending close to Maggie.

The girl got up without his help and dusted herself off, doing her best to offer their two helpers a grateful grin. In the other man’s grip, Alfred couldn’t stop the giggles.

“We’re fine,” Maggie declared with as much confidence she could muster.

In truth, she was more than fine. She didn’t think she had ever felt so happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes:  
> Kyle is Australia  
> Zach is New Zealand  
> Wendy is Wy  
> Bruce and Sam (Samantha) are OCs
> 
> English isn’t my first language, feel free to point out any mistake!
> 
> And I truly hope you enjoyed this. I cannot write real romance, but Alfred and Maggie felt just like… too young and inexperienced for anything less awkward than what I wrote. I hope it was fine, please let me know what you think!
> 
> In spite of this development, this story is far from over. I’m having a bit of a hard time writing it so chapters might be delayed, but I have no intention of abandoning it! If you want some more updates, you can check on my tumblr ([feyna-v](https://feyna-v.tumblr.com)).


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